Masks Hiding Masks
by StrangerInAStrangeWorld
Summary: Shinigami are supposed to hunt Hollows, not become them. Or so Hirako Shinji thought. Now his lieutenant Aizen's made his move, and he and his accomplices have done just that to Shinji and his own friends. With no way to go back, and no way to move openly, they're backed up against a wall. Can they hide the monsters inside long enough to bring the true monster to justice?
1. Donning the Masks

_So, I won't go into some rant about people being forgiving of me because this is my first Bleach fanfiction. It's not, really, but the other one was ignored enough that this may as well be. Though I'd like to think that I'd want people to give me the honest truth about my writing, not taking it easy. Anyway, forgive the bad grammar in here (you'll know it when you see it), as it's a device to show panic. Warning: there will be OCs. _

_I'll be using Japanese-order names and Japanese honorifics, but I'll try to avoid using gratuitous Japanese except where it makes the story feel more natural._

**- This line break begins the story-**

Kensei is a good captain. Sure, he's a harsh taskmaster, but he doesn't get in fights all the time like Kenpachi, isn't occasionally irresponsible like Shihoin, doesn't even drink except for the occasional cup of sake with Love or Shinji. If the white-haired man's liver was recovered from last time, he might even dare to have a drink with Rose and Kyouraku.

So for the life of him, Kensei has no idea why last night is a blur of shadows, shouts, and swords.

He must've had a few drinks too many after the mission with the pink-kimono-clad captain and his overly dramatic friend. That must be it, Kensei decides as he sits up and yawns. It's a strangely distorted, muffled sound, and the Ninth Division's captain finds out why when he goes to rub out the sleep from his eyes and meets a for-the-love-of-all-that's-holy-that's-cold mask.

_That _wakes him up quickly, and Kensei's fingers discover two rectangular holes above each eye, his own eyes looking out of identical slits. Was it some kind of costume party? Weird party, but maybe not for Kyouraku. The stories of what his colleague and friend had gotten up to were legendary, particularly the one involving three pastel-dyed tanuki and a couple dozen defaced orchards of cherry blossom trees.

The confusion turns to a sort of dawning horror as exploring fingers discover rods of bone sticking out from his shoulders, arms, and even his back. Not even fused to his skin, or glued there, but embedded deep within. Like a _Hollow. _

Kensei fumbles with the mask covering his face, finally hooking his fingers beneath its lower edges and tearing at it frantically, desperation numbing the pain as he tears off patches of skin in the removal. As the white-haired man rips the mask off, sending it skittering onto the floor in front of him, the rods of bone protruding from his body shatter, sending more blood trickling from him.

There's no doubt about it. The blood-splashed mask in front of him is a Hollow's mask with proportions that would never fit a Hollow's face, only a human one.

"We-ell, someone finally woke up. Got yer mask off, too." Shinji's standing right in front of him, lazy grin gone for once. "Mashiro sent me ta wake ya up, y'know. Thought I might haveta break it, too."

The normally unfazeable captain's stomach drops as if he's in one of those living-world moving rooms called elevators. Shinji's _right there. _He's _right there_ and he's not freaked out or scared. And as Kensei's memories start to clear, it's obvious that he attacked his friends, Shinji and Love and Rose and Lisa and Hiyori and Hachigen and Mashiro was right there attacking them too but what happened?

Focus, Kensei. Deal with this one step at a time. Find out what happened first and stop with this idiotic freak-out. Captains don't act that way. _You _don't act that way.

It's then that the Ninth Division's captain realizes that the blond is extending a hand to him expectantly.

"C'mon, Kensei. Can't have ya bleedin' over Urahara's nice clean floor. Well," he glances around at their surroundings, "mostly clean, anyway."

He takes the offered hand, hauling himself up to stand roughly an inch above Shinji. Up close to the Fifth Division's captain, Kensei notices dried blood encrusted on his face and hands. _What?_

Looks like Shinji noticed Kensei's look, because he rolls his eyes. "It's a long story, but let's say that ya weren't the only one to wake up with a mask."

At that moment, someone tackles the scowling man from behind, squealing, "Keenseeii! You got a funny mask too! Now you and Shinji and I can be a club and we can eat bean buns at our meetings!"

"Get off of me, Mashiro!" He blurts reflexively, confirming it when he twists around to see a short mop of green hair and a woman's wide-eyed face beaming up at him.

Kensei's lieutenant pouts as she releases him. "Don't be such a meany, Kensei. Bean buns are delicious! I don't see why you never want any!" Kuna Mashiro exclaims, stopping suddenly and putting her index finger to her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if Urahara-taicho has any bean paste around here? Or is it just all these boring science thingies?"

"Boring? You wound me, Kuna-chan." The man in question says from the doorway, leaning on the frame as he shuts the door behind him. "I'm afraid I don't have any bean paste, though. These dreadfully long hours keep me without any time to go buy some." Urahara sighs theatrically. "Good to see you up, Mugurama-kun." His expression turns serious. "We'll need to wake up the others soon if we're to have a proper cover story fabricated before someone comes looking for you."

Glancing around, Kensei sees with more than a bit of shock that there are others lying around the room. A dark-haired figure that looks like Lisa is sprawled on the floor with a diamond-shaped mask, fingers touching Hachigen's elbow as he lies there wearing what looks like a tusked demon-mask. Across the room, a long-beaked bird mask covers Rose's face and nearly distracts the Ninth Squad Captain from the much smaller Hiyori, whose usual scowl is obscured by a horned mask with diamonds above her eye. Love is halfway under a table, but enough of him is visible that Kensei can see an oni-like mask.

They all have Hollow masks. Every single one. What did Urahara do this time? It has to be Urahara; no one else could pull something like this off. Some part of Kensei wants to think that Urahara created person-sized masks for each one of them as a joke, because he can't process the idea that it might not be a joke, that the captains and lieutenants of the Gotei 13 might have become the monsters they fight.

The famously tough man turns to the blond and grinds his teeth. "Urahara. What did you do to us? I thought you were a captain, you psycho! You've taken these experiments too far!"

Shinji steps in at that point, his jaw clenched. "'Fraid Urahara-san didn't do it this time. _Aizen _did this to us. That smiling traitor called it Hollowfication. He made us Hollows. Urahara just reversed it as much as he could."

Kensei's eyes widen. "Aizen? Your lieutenant? I remember- I _think _I remember that backstabber-" he bites off the curse that he'd rather use for Mashiro's sake, she can be so childlike sometimes "-Tosen slicing me up, but not Aizen." The tanto-wielding man frowns sharply, shaking is head. "We can't be Hollows. No holes, not mindless, not soul-eating, Shinigami form. Impossible."

A scrabbling sound comes from Hiyori's corner of the room, and with a crack and the splash of blood, the blonde midget sits up and scowls. "Hollows? What're ya talkin' about, Kensei? Don't tell me you're bein' a dickhead like Shinji."

Said 'dickhead' releases a sigh that someone could've mistaken for one of relief. "Ask Urahara about it. All I know is that Aizen turned you an' me and everyone else here except him an' Tessai into Hollows, and Blondie used somethin' called the Hogyoku to turn us back most of the way."

"Most of the way?!" Hiyori demands. "Do it all the way, you lazy idiot!"

"I can't." Urahara says bluntly, standing up straight and entering the room fully. "You're never going to be fully Shinigami again. I'm sorry, Sarugaki-san. Now that you've shattered the border between Shinigami and Hollow, there's no way to go back. It was all I could do to keep you sane and in human form."

Hiyori pales. "But-you mean I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life?"

He nods. "The Hollowfication changed your souls. For all I know, it could pass on to your children like spiritual power tends to do." The scientist holds up a hand to forestall any more questions. "No more questions for now, please. I need to get these masks off before someone comes in for work."

Numbly they go to work, prying off their friends' masks. Lisa grabs Urahara's wrist and pins him to the ground when he gets within a few inches of her face, mumbling an apology when she realizes that he isn't Kyouraku and ripping her mask off with surprising force. Kensei handles Rose's mask, noting with just a little bit of bitterness that the resident drama queen- or king, he supposes- actually does smell of sake. Hiyori opts to simply slam the hilt of her sword into Love's face, cracking the mask enough for it to fall off.

It's as much chaos as nine people- ten, when the somber Tessai joins them- can manage after that. Questions fly through the worry- and anger-laced air as quick as Hiyori's jump-kicks, which she refrains from for once. The white-haired captain yells at anyone who gets too close to him, meaning Mashiro. Kensei eventually puzzles out that Aizen was commanding Tosen and the smirking child prodigy Ichimaru Gin, had some sort of illusion-covered double following Shinji in place of him for the past month, and somehow managed to create a counterpart to one of Urahara's inventions to Hollowfy them. Most depressing is the revelation that there's no way to connect Hirako's ill-chosen lieutenant to this, and much more that would implicate the man who saved them. Knowledge of Hollowfication, the artifact to do it, the fact that Urahara wasn't seen while the transformation was going on while Aizen was, all of it points to the blond.

And as the resident mad scientist, uncharacteristically grim, tells the eight hybrids, there's a very high chance that they'd be hunted down as monsters if the truth was revealed. Yamamoto unflinchingly kills anyone who doesn't fit into his view of justice, and that includes Hollows. At best, he orders the Onmitsukido to put criminals into the Maggot's Nest. Yesterday Kensei would've thought of himself like that. Now? That would mean rejecting what Urahara tells him is a part of his soul, even if the Ninth Division's captain could still look in a mirror and see the same man as yesterday.

Somehow they manage to work out something resembling a cover story: Urahara and Tessai were too worried about their subordinates to stay behind and went to find them, discovering and killing a badly wounded Hollow retreating from their bodies, forcing the two to teleport the group to the nearest division headquarters, which happened to be the Twelfth Division. Tessai and Urahara didn't have time to call the Fourth Division and used a combination of technology and Kido to repair their comrades. They manage to create a surprisingly detailed image of the Hollow that allegedly attacked the eight, claiming it to be a Vasto Lorde-class natural Arrancar with the ability to mask its power.

All in all, as long as Hiyori and Mashiro aren't the ones giving the report, the secret should be fine for now.

Just as Tessai manages to calm the near-homicidal Hiyori down for the fifth time, a thump on the door comes from outside, followed by a bellowed, "Hey, Kisuke! There's a meeting, come on!"

It's Shihoin Yoruichi, of course, who's standing there when Urahara cautiously opens the door, golden eyes bright and smile brighter. The Onmitsukido commander's eyes widen slightly when she sees the eight captains and vice captains with various levels of clothing damage and blood stains trying to compose themselves.

Kensei privately reminds himself to thank Urahara some time when the enigmatic man rubs the nape of his neck and the goofy smile returns to his face. If there's anyone who can pull off the pretense of harmlessness, it's him.

And if there's anyone who can utterly shatter a pretense of harmlessness, it's Yoruichi. The purple-haired- it _is _purple, as much as Sui Feng might try to romanticize it as violet or amethyst- woman steps into the room, flashing a quick wave at everyone present.

"You had a sleepover, huh? You should've invited me, Kisuke. You _know _how much fun I am at sleepovers." She teases.

The man in question ducks his head mock-bashfully, having the grace to blush slightly. "Oh, I know. It just slipped my mind, that's all."

"I'm sure." Yoruichi replies, serious suddenly. "What _happened_? Kyouraku's frantic, and Yamamoto's furious that some of his captains and lieutenants have gone missing. I had to organize _search parties, _Kisuke! All Soul Society's in an uproar!"_  
_

Urahara's head jerks up, the picture of confusion and worry. Flawlessly, he rattles off the cover story, occasionally peppering it with hand gestures and subtle signals for someone to add a comment in here and there.

When he's finished, the Second Division's captain sighs, rubbing her temples and shaking her head exasperatedly.

"You're aware that it's my job to lie and figure out other people's lies, right? It's pretty transparent that something very different from that happened last night, Kisuke."

Cue nine captains and lieutenants, as well as one Kido Chief, gaping at Yoruichi.

Rose recovers first, composing himself as always. "Oh? What gave it away, Shihoin-san?" He asks.

Yoruichi gives him a sidelong glance. "I've known this idiot for years. He can't hide all his tells from me, and he can't do anything about other people's carelessness. There're eight Hollow masks sitting on the floor, sized for human faces, and I bet if I tested the blood on them, it would match perfectly to the blood on your faces. Those're the obvious clues, anyway. Start talking, Kisuke."

All at once, the carefree mask drops again. "The short version is that Aizen Sousuke used an inferior version of one of my inventions and his own remarkable power to turn them into Hollows, and I managed to reverse it...partially. He's got Ichimaru Gin, Tosen Kaname, and an unknown man as accomplices, and we don't have any evidence against him except them." He waves a hand at the people behind him. The part of Kensei that isn't still a bit shocked that the noble woman discovered the ruse so quickly is irked at being referred to as 'them', even if it does make sense.

Now it's Yoruichi's turn to gape, or come as close to it as she can, which means a parting of her lips and widened eyes. "Shinigami-Hollow hybrids? Aizen? I knew there was a reason I never liked that psychopath, but is that even possible?"

Kensei snorts. "Dunno. All I know is that I woke up with a mask grafted to my face."

The dark-skinned woman blinks a few times. "Well, _I _don't know anything about how you got here or what happened last night. All I know is that there's a captain's meeting and six people in this room are late for it." She turns to go, purple hair brushing her face with the movement, before stopping and calling over her shoulder. "Hey, Kisuke. That research you mentioned earlier about finding ways to make provisions last longer in the field so Shinigami don't have to run on _empty _stomachs, could you update me when you find out more? The Onmitsukido could use that, even if we'd have to keep it _secret _until it was ready for other divisions." Yoruichi's tone makes it very clear that she in no way means actual research on rations._  
_

A sly smile spreads over the mad scientist's features. "Of course, Yoruichi-san." He replies.

The rest of the day is a mess of paperwork, reports, and questioning. Blessedly, Kensei is able to fill out the report for Mashiro, since the Gotei 13 is tired of finding paperwork filled out in crayon and stained with suspiciously sweet-smelling sticky marks. Urahara doesn't even have to ask to fill out a report for Hiyori, who maintains a legendary dislike for paperwork and was banned from it after one too many papers were found with holes and curses written on them.

So far, the bases are covered. It's only a matter of figuring out exactly how long they can keep on the masks hiding their masks...

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_So, how'd you like the title drop at the end there? This'll be told ensemble-style with no one character holding the position of narrator for the entire story. I suppose I don't need to ask for feedback, what with everyone and their mother adding that in at the end, but I really do appreciate it~_

**Omake!**

"Aw, c'mon, Kensei! Don't you want a cool mask for Halloween?" Mashiro asked, perched on the captain in question's desk amid stacks of forms to be filled out. "We can go around asking for candy and saying 'Trick or Treat' and we don't even have to look for costumes! It'll be-Hey!" Kensei had shoved her off of the desk, an aura of exasperation hanging around him.

"No, I don't want a mask for Halloween! I don't want a mask at all!" He snapped. "Besides, it's completely the wrong season for Halloween! We're in spring, you ditz!"

The green-haired girl wailed, leaping back to a standing position and covering between her legs with her hands. "Kensei, you pervert! You did that because you wanted to see my panties!" Forgetting the notion as abruptly as she had conceived of it, his lieutenant placed her hands on her hips. "Besides, don't you know that jokes like that are completely up to the whim of the author when she wants to put in an omake but can't think of anything else? It doesn't matter what season it is, silly!" Mashiro laughed.

"Do your work, Mashiro." He replied, ignoring her comments and looking back down to the report he was completing.

"But I don't want to!" She whined.

"DO IT!"

For miles around, any birds that might have been roosting near the Ninth Division flew away with the volume of his yell.


	2. Other Faces Beneath the Masks

_Hey, look! I got around to writing another chapter despite my other ongoing fanfic! To the kind reviewer Naomi Shihoin, you are the only reason I didn't let this turn into another one of this dead one-chapter fics with potential! Assuming this has potential, anyway. I probably jinxed my progress by referring to this as such. Ah, well. On with the show!_

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

Hachi is the first one to notice that they might not be out of the clear. The massive man supposes that it's fitting that he be the first one to see the stirrings of an inner monster, seeing as he's the most introspective of the group.

Already he's thinking of the transformed Shinigami as composing a group. If he was completely honest with himself, Hachi would say that he considers them a family. No, something that resembles a family, but isn't. A pack. Perhaps, the pink-haired Kido master thinks to himself, that too is a sign of the change. Before he would never have raised himself to the level of captains, but their shared secret binds the eight together and forges ties that he would be hard-pressed to explain.

The first inkling of trouble comes when Tessai's trusted lieutenant is overseeing the investigation into the strange phenomena of void-tears called Garganta. The Kido Corps are in charge of the _senkaimon _that bridge worlds, so it's only natural that they notice when energy starts registering from doors that do not go where they should be going. No one goes to Hueco Mundo, save for a unit that failed to return a few centuries back.

The handful of veiled Shinigami traipse through the wilderness of Rukongai, a carefully applied Bakudo muting their spirit power- and spirit sense, conversely- to some extent. The secretive Kido users don't like to advertise their presence when they must leave the equally secret citadel that houses Soul Society's knowledge of the demon arts, accumulated over millennia. Forbidden Kido, Bakudo, Hado, even that which falls under neither discipline, all lies with the Kido Corps.

Hachi doesn't struggle to keep up for once, leading the band deliberately and quietly through the underbrush. As the most senior officer on this assignment, he is responsible for the other Kido specialists and all that they do while under his command.

Soon enough- far too long, but soon enough- the unit arrives at the place where the dark _reiatsu_ was detected. The pink-haired man blinks at the sudden influx of bright sunlight, shading his eyes and discovering through the rough texture that meets the side of his index finger that he missed a spot of blood above his eyebrow. The Kido Corps' lieutenant doesn't trouble himself over it, knowing that soap and water are the best remedy and there isn't really any here.

The unit members fan out around the area, already beginning the chanting and weaving of _reiatsu _that was Kido. Hachi watches them, examining their workings with his spirit sense and catching the mistakes each made in their incantations and execution of the spells. Finally one flash-steps over to him, looking winded already from the action despite the short distance. Brown eyes look at up at him from beneath the dove-grey veil, and from the short stature and feminine- though barely- figure he guesses that this is 13th Seat Kagurazaki Hisoka. A near-unexpressive girl, excellent at memorization but lacking the drive to master anything but Kido or the passion necessary to fuel stronger techniques.

Hachi blinks down at her. "Yes, Kagurazaki-san?" He asks, hoping for conclusive results. This is the third time this week that he has journeyed through Rukongai in search of Garganta, and it would be rather disappointing if this was another enigma.

Hisoka bows. "We have isolated some of the trace Hollow _reiatsu_ and applied Kido to a few tubes to contain it for later analysis, Hachigen-_fukutaicho_. However, there appear to be a few points in which the rest of the trace _reiatsu _is collecting, similar to a vortex. It might be best if you were to further examine these." She glances up at him dully, clearly bored.

The bulky Hollow-Shinigami hybrid represses a sigh of irritation, knowing that it would not be productive to show it. He follows the tiny woman- but there are few people who aren't tiny to Hachi- over to a pear-shaped rock, where his subordinates are laying down a net of Kido that shows a purplish-black bundle of power, similarly colored strands trailing towards its center.

Hachi bends down to the extent that he can and frowns at it, already murmuring the words for a few techniques and stretching out his _reiatsu _tentatively, withdrawing as soon as he touches it. There is no question about this power that suggests bone-white sands and endless night. It is that of Hueco Mundo.

That is when he hears a slow hissing, unmistakably that of a living being and almost comically deep. But it is not _quite _comically deep, and that sends every hair on the Kido Corps' lieutenant's body standing on end.

**"Home..." **it whispers, the sensation like acid to his ears. **"Home..."**

Hachi starts. Could a Hollow have come through from its blood-soaked home?

"Be on guard, please." He orders. "That hissing could only have come from a Hollow, and it is unwise to be unprepared."

One of the men's eyebrows raise slightly in confusion. "I didn't hear anything." He replies.

Worry and confusion surges in the giant man immediately, squashed down immediately with a calm expression. "Ah, it must have been the wind. Or perhaps an old man's ears deceiving him." Hachi attempts to make a joke, and despite the lack of laughter it does loosen them up. He isn't an old man by Shinigami standards, and the suggestion that he is is one of the oldest jokes in Soul Society's collective book. Only Yamamoto and Unohana are genuinely old, and only the bearded man shows it.

After that, they return at a faster pace. Hachi needs to speak with Urahara, and wasted time is not something that he is sure if he can afford. The pink-haired man leaves the Kido analysis and subsequent distillation of the samples to his subordinates, seeking out the resident mad scientist. Of course, Kurotsuchi Mayuri may well overtake him in the 'mad' aspect of the title. The man is what can only be described as a freakshow, and a rather amoral one at that.

When Hachi enters, ducking to avoid scraping his head on the doorframe, Urahara is there overseeing his squad members- affectionately referred to as minions- and mixing a concoction of his own. The wide smile on his face broadens and dims simultaneously as he spots the rarely-seen man.

"Ah, Hachigen-san!" He cries. "Tessai told me that you might be arriving to discuss the Garganta problems. Please, follow me." The blond leads him through the headquarters and into his office, where Hiyori stands picking at her bitten nails.

"Sarugaki-san, I thought you were helping out Third Seat Kurotsuchi with the filing of notes from his most recent experiment." Urahara says mildly, receiving a jump-kick for his troubles.

"It's boring!" She barks. "I'm not doin' some stupid little chore like that, good-for-nothing!"

The Twelfth Squad's captain pinches his nose, fumbling for a tissue box on his desk before simply settling for his sleeve. "Sorry, sorry, I thought you didn't want to work with chemicals." He apologizes. God only knows if it's genuine or not.

"I don't! Let me go fight someone! It's borin' in this stuffy little lab!" She snaps, pointing at Hachi. "What's he doin' here?"

Hachi bows to her. "Nice to see you again, Lieutenant Sarugaki. I needed to speak with Captain Urahara and he thought it better to conduct the conversation here."

The pigtailed girl snorts. "Don't see what you'd need with this baldy, but go ahead."

Tessai's lieutenant nods and turns to Urahara. "If you don't mind, Captain Urahara, anything that you could to do to limit the travel of sound beyond these walls would be excellent."

The goofy man smiles. "Quiet is my middle name. Urahara Quiet Kisuke. Or Kisuke Quiet Urahara, if you prefer." He taps away at a small tablet on his desk, looking back up when he finishes.

"All set, Hachigen-san. Fire away." The blond leans back against his desk.

"It concerns the events of the cross-division mission recently." Hachi replies hesitantly. "I was investigating a Garganta detection and heard what sounded like hissing when I attempted to examine trace power left behind. A voice, as well, though not Hoi Tsukene. I believe it was saying something like 'Home, home.' My subordinates noticed nothing." Now he permits a frown to cross his face, away from public sight.

A frown crosses Urahara's face as well. "Interesting. I...believe I might have the explanation, if not the solution." He fidgets with the edge of his left sleeve. "Lieutenant Aizen's experiment was not fully reversible, but for a time your Shinigami self was buried in your soul world and you were indeed a Hollow, with a different personality and set of abilities. Those didn't leave you when I used the Hogyoku, but simply traded places with you. The reestablishment of your natural persona and sudden awakening left it very weak. If my predictions are correct, there is a Hollow with strength equal to or greater than your own inside your soul. The voice you heard may have been its voice stirring."

The gigantic man blinks, letting the information roll through his mind and a response roll out of his mouth. "I see. I do not suppose there is a way to silence it, Captain?"

Urahara releases a sigh. "I can't say without personally undergoing Hollowfication, but I do not think so. Attempting to communicate with it through your thoughts may be somewhat effective. Um, Sarugaki-san, have you experienced anything like this?" He asks, eyes flicking down to her face.

"Course not, idiot. I woulda said somethin' otherwise." She scoffs. "Voices, huh? Kubikiri Orochi's annoying enough. I don't really want to deal with anybody else in here." The violent lieutenant says, tapping her head.

They finish up the conversation with a few pleasantries, though the pleasant aspect of it is mostly fulfilled by Urahara and Hachi. The latter Shinigami leaves with a few seeds of trouble beginning to grow in his heart.

As Hachi re-enters the Kido Corps' headquarters, he has the feeling that these next few months will be very unpleasant for the new hybrids.

Very unpleasant indeed.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_So, that was my attempt at writing from Hachigen Ushoda's perspective. Did I capture him adequately? I don't know, since he's hardly a major player in canon. His Zanpakuto's name, according to my meager and perhaps inaccurate sources, means "encircling roots." _


	3. Masks Starting to Slip

_Well, here I go again. I'll probably cycle through every Visored's perspective sooner or later, though I find it easiest to write from Kensei's perspective personally. His no-nonsense attitude is easiest to capture._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

It's a little bit awkward, working with Aizen. Having your colleague essentially melt your face off, cut you down, and watching him turn you and your friends into psychotic monsters just doesn't endear you to a person.

Nevertheless, Hirako Shinji is a good actor, and it's not so hard for him to pretend to have no recollection of The night's actual events. Maybe Aizen meant for the eight to forget who caused their transformation. Or maybe he just knows that he's untouchable, that worthless punk.

Whatever the reason, the two men manage to have conversations perfectly normally and do paperwork perfectly normally. As normal as ever, anyway. Shinji knew _something _was up with the mild-mannered lieutenant even before he attained his position, just not that that _something _was insane power levels and utter psychopathy. It's no small wonder that Aizen Sousuke could fool the master of deception.

A constant smile and lazy demeanor put most everyone at ease around the blond. The rest of them see the casual behavior and know that captains don't get to be where they are without being strong and competent enough to handle it, and they keep their wary distance. Sure, Shinji could use proper Japanese and catch Hiyori's many attacks, but it's so much more fun to see people operate on their assumption that he's not a threat and then break that illusion. If only he could break Aizen's actual illusions.

As usual, the Fifth Division's lieutenant knocks softly on Shinji's door in the morning to wake him up for a captains' meeting. Aizen's captain calls for him to come in amidst the languid rhythm of his jazz records, and the brown-haired man finds Shinji flopped on his bed, already dressed but lying there simply for the pleasure of listening to his music.

"Captain Hirako, your presence is required at the First Division with the other captains, I'm afraid." Like hell he's afraid. The man can pull off a high-level Kido without incantation and has the power of absolute illusions. He has nothing to be afraid of.

The captain in question rolls over, sitting up and flapping his hand at Aizen. "Eh, y'know they don't expect me to be on time. I've still got a few minutes." Shinji replies, brushing a strand of golden hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry to say that I gave you those minutes, Captain Hirako. You may be late as it is." The backstabber says firmly. "Unless Captain Kyouraku has invited you drinking the previous night, the captain-commander won't be lenient."

The blond sighs, standing up and attaching his Zanpakuto to his belt. "I know, I know. The old man never is." And Shinji knows better than anyone else how unforgiving Yamamoto is, thanks to Aizen. Somehow that knowledge doesn't hang in the air between them uncomfortably, and the Fifth Division's captain brushes past his lieutenant easily, grabbing his _haori _on the way out and pulling it on.

"Do th' paperwork that comes in, 'kay? See if you can run everyone through a coupla trainin' exercises too." He calls over his shoulder, flash-stepping away to the First Division before a response can be given.

As soon as he's there, though, Hiyori's waiting for him to deliver her infamous jump-kick to the face. Some things never change, at least.

Clutching a bloody nose, Shinji chokes out, "What was that for, ya midget? Yer not even invited to the meeting! It's for captains, not violent pipsqueaks!"

"I'm still growin', baldy!" Said pipsqueak bellows. She might have tried something else if not for the arrival of the Tenth Squad's captain, or at least the man standing in for him today. Matsumoto and Isshin are probably off training the prodigy Hitsugaya and drinking sake as they do so, knowing the pair.

"My apologies for the interruption, Lieutenant Sarugaki, Captain Hirako, but extenuating circumstances have made me a bit later than I'd like and I need to pass." The deep, smooth voice of the Tenth Divison's fourth seat Kojima Masaaki says. It's far too close to Aizen's voice for the blond's comfort, but they aren't the same person and he forces himself to remember that each time they meet.

Shinji wipes some blood away from his upper lip and turns to him. "Sorry 'bout her, Kojima-san. Not everyone can have a pretty little lieutenant like yours, y'know." He's referring to Matsumoto Rangiku, of course, Masaaki's superior.

The black-maned man smiles. "And I'm very lucky to have her, as Urahara-san is to have Sarugaki-san as his lieutenant."

"Stop tryin' to butter me up, Smiley!" He receives a kick to the face for his troubles. "That idiot's too stupid to be a captain, and the only reason he's got me to make him less stupid is 'cause the old man thought he'd make that screw-up captain based on the werecat's recommendation after Hikifune left!"

"Ow..." Masaaki murmurs, flat on his back, before clambering to his feet. "Nice as ever to see you both." The now-bleeding man says, raising a hand in farewell as he brushes past.

The blond sighs, attempting to follow him only to be blocked by Hiyori standing directly in his path. "Hey, I'm not just hangin' around here for giggles, y'know. Urahara wanted to know if you'd been hearin' voices. Up in here." She adds, tapping the side of her head.

Shinji blinks at her. _Voices? _Perfect, just perfect. He'd long-ago come to enjoy Sakanade's observations- more like plotting or pointing out people's weak spots-in his mind, but a new voice must mean a Hollow in his skull. The perpetually-grinning man had already begun to theorize about it, reasoning that Hollows and Shinigami were complete opposites, so Hollowfication meant another entity taking over in place of a Shinigami mind. Zanpakuto spirits lived in the soul, and were no more able to be removed than the sun from the sky. With that precedent, a Hollow had more than likely taken up permanent residence in his head.

**"Think ya know everythin', do ya, king?" **A soft, scratchy voice whispers. **"Just ya wait. Soon you'll be the one whisperin' ineffectually."**

And just like that, the cold, slimy presence in Shinji's mind is gone, leaving him blinking rapidly at Hiyori, who's waving her hand in front of his face.

"Hey! Dickhead Shinji! I asked ya a question, answer it!" She shouts.

He shoves her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Didn't really notice anythin' 'til ya mentioned it, but he was speakin' just now. Lemme pass, midget."

Either the pint-sized blonde has been taking anger management classes, or she's too uneasy to do anything about his comment, because Hiyori just seethes and steps aside. Shinji'd bet on the latter, if the faintly troubled look that Urahara's lieutenant hides quickly is anything to go by.

When the Fifth Division's captain finally makes it to the meeting hall, even Urahara is there already. Polite as ever, Ukitake and Kojima give him a nod as Kensei just grunts in acknowledgement.

"Captain Hirako, do you have an explanation for your utter disregard of timeliness?" Yamamoto asks severely.

Shinji rubs the nape of his neck as he takes his place. "Well, ya see, Lieutenant Sarugaki-"- even the informal man calls her by insults and her given name outside, he's got enough self-preservation to call her by her title here-"-ambushed me when I was tryin' to get in here. Sad, really, somebody should teach her her place."

He could swear that he hears the venerable Shinigami sigh slightly. "Captain Urahara, it is expected that you at least make a show of trying to control your lieutenant. Do so in the future."

The captain in question ducks his head in acknowledgement. "Sorry, Captain-Commander. It won't happen again."

Yamamoto rumbles in assent. "Onto our orders of business."

After that the old man rambles on about the necessity of Shikai training in the Shin'o Academy, something about not enough officers having power levels appropriate for Shinigami, calling for a vote on implementing that policy. Naturally, Shinji tunes it out in favor of composing a jazz song in his head.

Of course the new Kenpachi, who's shown up for once, votes in favor. As he puts it, "These guys are weaklings. We need more fighters." Not eloquent, but Eleventh Division members rarely are, save for that pretty boy who joined up. Kyouraku, Rose, Love, Yoruichi, and Shinji himself vote with Kenpachi and the captain-commander for a majority, which seals the deal.

Strolling out of the First Division headquarters later, chatting with Kyouraku, the blond is happy enough to fill the air with idle talk as he puzzles out his new situation in the back of his mind.

Sometimes he gets the feeling that the sake-loving captain is doing the same thing, observing the world with a coldly clinical eye internally while spinning a web of honeyed words and flowers around himself. Shunsui hasn't been a captain for so long simply by virtue of his invincible liver and charismatic grin, after all. Every one of these people could get very dangerous.

Shinji decides to go for a walk around Seireitei that day. Let Aizen do the paperwork, it's like sake for Kyouraku compared to what he deserves.

As the Hollow-Shinigami hybrid moves through the Shinigami city's streets, he wonders vaguely what would happen if he announced, right there, that his universally beloved lieutenant had transformed eight captains and lieutenants into a combination of man and monster. Would they laugh it off as a prank from that trickster Captain Hirako? Would they do as every Shinigami has been trained and attack him? Would they call him crazy and stick him in the Maggot's Nest?

Well, Shinji thinks to himself, it doesn't matter, because he wouldn't announce that.

**"Scared o' me, king?" **That voice crawls through his head again. **"'Course, since yer a weaklin', that's doesn't surprise me at all. I'd end up havin' to take over your sorry skin and beat 'em all up when you couldn't handle a few worms."**

_Take over? _The blond thinks in response. May as well try to negotiate with the Hollow, if he can't get rid of it.

**"Negotiate? Nice try, king, but that's not how it works. I'm gonna get stronger, and get closer to you, and no matter what you do, I'm gonna take control and make ****_you _****the prisoner!"** It whisper-howls, presence starting to weaken already. **"Don't...forget."**

Shinji curses beneath his breath, prompting a startled and confused look from the Fourth Division member sweeping the street. So the inner Hollow planned to lock him up in his own soul, huh? Not if the Fifth Division's captain could help it. At this stage, he couldn't fight it, though. It was like trying to cut fog: too nebulous and disparate to have any effect.

As the blond rounds the corner, an itch in the back of his throat overtakes him, and he coughs to get rid of it. But one thing leads to another, and soon it feels as if he's got a glob of molten glass stuck back there. Shinji hacks, body spasming as the stubborn irritant refuses to leave, finally slamming a fist into his chest and prompting a grayish-white blob of _something _to come flying out.

The reluctant hybrid stares at it for a second, gears turning in his head. _The hell is that? _He wonders before it clicks. That's the same stuff that burst from his mouth and eyes and grafted itself to his face, faintly oozing Hollow _reiatsu_. Molten bone, essentially. Shinji has the sinking feeling that he's going to be seeing a lot of that soon.

"Captain Hirako!" A voice calls, and he looks up to see a beefy-looking man hurrying towards him. It's one of the Fourth Division members, the one who doesn't look anything like he should be Fourth Division, Aono Kohaku. "Captain, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?"

Shinji quickly steps forward to put the blob behind him. Doesn't take Urahara to figure out what the stuff is, and then it could be bye-bye-Captain-Hirako.

He holds up a hand. "Nah, I'm good. Just a cold or somethin'." The blond captain yawns, displaying his prominent teeth. "I'll get over it on my own, yeah?"

Aono nods, backing off and turning back to his job. "Alright, if you're really okay, Captain. Sounded like you were trying to get rid of a lung there."

Hiyori's favorite target shrugs. "Think I still got it." He flashes a smile at the man, turning and leaving without the faintest hint of a goodbye, using his Shinigami speed to scoop up the blob in his sleeve. Kisuke needs to hear about this.

After Shinji's related his experience to Urahara, he can see the 'I'm filing this away for future reference' expression flit over the deceptively goofy captain's face.

"Troublesome as ever, Hirako-san." The man says cheerfully, back to the hybrid as he reads through a lab report. "First Hachigen-san, now you. He was the first one to start hearing voices, you know. Or maybe you don't; I forget so often what I tell people or don't."

"Cut the crap, Urahara. He wants out soon." Shinji says bluntly. "I dunno how long it's gonna take, but you're the only non-psychopath in Soul Society who's got the brains to figure out something before that happens." Though sometimes he has his suspicions about Urahara's mental state... "It's nothin' like havin' a Zanpakuto spirit. It's like having the personification of acid at absolute zero in yer head, and it wants to take yer body for a permanent joyride that ends up hittin' someone and killin' 'em." It's a weird analogy, but frankly, no one designs analogies in mind for inner Hollows.

Urahara turns around, setting the papers down on his desk and showing Shinji a deadly serious face. "I don't know what it's like, you're right, Hirako-san, but I've told you that there isn't much I can do. I'm working on a residual _reiatsu _purifier that'll make sure that the Hollow _reiatsu_ leaking off of you and the others won't tip anyone off or make them needlessly uneasy. Muguruma-san's already been having issues with a few unseated officers sweating bullets and fainting out of fear."

He sighs, and suddenly Shinji sees the drawn, tired expression on the mad scientist's face, his shoulders slumping as if they're carrying the world. Maybe, the Fifth Division's captain thinks, he is. Aizen can't just be stopping with the Hollowfication of a few captains and lieutenants. He isn't that kind of person, and Urahara is the only person who's ever been able to match him. As carefree as Kisuke acts, it must be killing him to be able to do nothing about this. Doesn't help Shinji and his fellow Hollowfication victims any, though.

"That's all I can do for now, Hirako-san. I'll keep trying, but most of this is up to you and the others now. I'm so sorry, I really am. If I hadn't sent Hiyori..." He trails off.

"No use worryin' about what might've been, Urahara. We can only deal with what is." The other man says, not without a trace of bitterness. "We'll try too. Try to keep from becomin' monsters." Shinji turns to go, straightening his shoulders and putting the smile back on his face. A mask to hide his mask. "G'night."

As the slender man leaves, he could swear that he hears the head of the Research and Development Bureau sitting down heavily behind his desk and starting to cry.

He doesn't think he's ever known Urahara to cry.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**


	4. Trying to Wear Inner Masks

_So far so good, huh? Though in-story, there's trouble in paradise. As much as what amounts to a mostly Lawful Evil government can be a paradise. Okay, yeah, I just wanted to use the phrase 'trouble in paradise.' So sue me. Anyway, it should be fairly obvious by now that I'm inserting my original characters into the story where I don't want faceless Shinigami. They aren't plot-significant, never fear. I just like working with people I know._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

Mashiro doesn't really understand why Kensei's been even grumpier than normal for the past month. Sure, the new voice inside her head can be a little bit mean sometimes, but that doesn't mean she can't try to get along with it. Maybe his voice is a meany all the time.

That must be it, the hyperactive lieutenant decides. Otherwise he wouldn't visit Urahara all the time and come back with a scowl so fierce that it sends members of the Ninth Division scurrying out of his way almost as fast as Yoruichi's flash-step.

Today's a sunny day, perfect for Mashiro's regular trip to her favorite sweet shop in the Rukongai. It isn't high-end, but they make excellent bean buns and the like. Occasionally, the green-haired girl sees the Eleventh Division's new lieutenant hanging around, and when that happens, the whole inventory's usually cleaned out.

Luckily, there's no sign of the pink-haired child on this particular excursion, and Kensei's lieutenant skips out of the shop in a blissful mood, carrying a few baskets of treats for later. Mashiro even remembers to grab a package of their Seireitei-themed buns. This one's Ninth Division-themed, with a big silver-iced bun with sixty-nine marked in Western numbers on its front next to a small green-iced one with little frosted glasses perched on top. She giggles at seeing bun-Kensei somehow radiating grumpiness just like the real thing.

Is life really so different from before Aizen transformed them? The Ninth Division's lieutenant doesn't think so.

Or at least, she doesn't think so until she shoves open the doors of the Ninth Division, waving at a few Shinigami, and promptly vomits her guts out onto the pavement.

Mashiro is kneeling on the ground before a division member can get to her, heaving up her breakfast and every sweet she ate on the way back. A callused hand seizes her scarf, and another grabs her hair to keep it out of the way of the remains of her food. Doesn't feel like Kensei, some part of her thinks as the green-haired girl supports herself with palms on the ground. Too small.

Finally it's little more than black bile, burning her throat and filling every part of her with the sensation of corrosive acid. A shrill, buzzing voice in her head says in a strangled tone,

**"That's what you get, scrawny Shinigami. I'm-going to-beat you-and take my-freedom."** It chokes out. **"Just you wait..."**

Blessedly, only Mashiro notices when she struggles to her feet, legs wobbling, that there are tendrils and swirls of white within the vomit. Everyone is too focused on the minor detail of their lieutenant suddenly attempting to rid her body of her intestines through her mouth to notice.

The tight grip on her hair and scarf releases, and Kuna Mashiro is greeted by the sight of a tiny grey-haired boy with undisguised disgust on his features when she turns around.

"I don't have a towel or somethin' on me," he remarks, "so you're just gonna have to ask someone else or get one from one o' the Fourth Division pansies." The kid jerks his head at two rapidly approaching Shinigami. "Real great impression you're makin' for th' new division transfer, Lieutenant. I'm Matsushima Ryuu, by the way. See ya 'round!" The midget calls before disappearing into the crowd of Shinigami.

The green-haired girl tilts her head at him before the Fourth Division members get to her, and she has to focus on them. Focus being a relative word with Mashiro, of course.

After she's wiped her mouth with a long sleeve, Kensei's tormentor complains, "And I enjoyed those, too! D'ya think Kensei'll let me get more 'cause I lost them?"

Any response the befuddled pair of men might've given is cut off by a firm "no" from behind Mashiro.

"You must've gotten food poisoning from that shop, ditz. No way you're heading back." Kensei snaps, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the building behind them. "Get something to drink- not sake, get milk or something that's not too sweet- and go to bed. We'll let it run its course." The white-haired man directs his last statement at the healers in front of him.

The smaller hybrid whirls around to face her captain, nearly toppling over as she whines, "But Kensei, it was all nice and fresh, it wouldn't-" Mashiro stops as the Ninth Division's captain catches her elbow to steady her with a meaningful glare.

"Look, you ate food and threw up. Seems like food poisoning to me. C'mon, woman. Get these two to take you to your room and I'll clean up here. You're my lieutenant, so I'm responsible for your messes." He replies.

The Fourth Division members help her to her room, though when the trio is about halfway there Mashiro doesn't need the help any more, having recovered quickly. Still, Kensei might let her take a day or two off if she's sick, so the green-haired lieutenant takes advantage of it and snags a cup of water before giving the other Shinigami a cheerful goodbye and sprawling onto her bed.

There the smile drops off of her bright face. Maybe the pervert's got a reason to be grumpy after all.

See, Mashiro's got a little theory spinning around in her head among all those thoughts of whether she can persuade Kensei to get a puppy for the squad, and though neither one knows it, Urahara has the same one.

She thinks that the Hollows that took each one of the eight over are distorted reflections of the Shinigami they inhabit, but they're reflections all the same. The energetic girl's Hollow sounds as free-spirited as she is, if in more of a rebellious way, so Mashiro guesses with the scraps of logic that she possesses that Kensei's must be as rough and uncompromisingly aggressive as he is, but without any of his restraint.

And if that's the case, the Hollows are powerful indeed. The Ninth Division's lieutenant knows that everyone forgets about it, or pretends to forget, but every single one of the captains and lieutenants are dangerous. Taking into account the fact that captains and lieutenants have to climb the ranks like everyone else, except Kenpachi and his tag-along kid, there must be a few potentially very dangerous non-captains in the ranks too. Without the morals of a Shinigami, but with a Shinigami's body and a Hollow's powers, the inner Hollows are something to be feared.

But Mashiro doesn't want any of the pain and fear, and so she shuts those thoughts out of her mind and turns back to her rose-tinted musings on sesame buns and Urahara's invention of juice with bubbles in it.

When Kensei returns from his chore to check up on his lieutenant, he finds her curled tightly on her still-made bed, fists protectively clenched into fists above her heart. Instead of softening, the gruff man's face hardens with regret and anger that he cannot release.

Why can't they all just go back to before this whole twisted month began?

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_It's easy enough to portray Mashiro from someone else's point of view, since we all know how she acts, but it was a real challenge to try to get inside her head. "Is she the ditz she seems to be, or is it all an act to cover up a more serious person?" I asked myself. "Or a combination of the two?"_ I'm _not even sure which one I wrote._


	5. Lovely Masks

_I really like writing this. It's fun to explore life in Seireitei. I can't figure out what Aizen'll do eventually when the Visored are forced to eventually confront him/reveal who Hollowfied them, though. Suggestions?_

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

Lisa _hates _hiding things from Kyouraku. They're so close that it's hard for her to even surprise him with a gift of an erotic novel she caught him looking at. The black-haired lieutenant usually ends up telling her captain within a few hours of the purchase.

She just wasn't made to keep secrets. Even having more tact than Hiyori, Lisa is still more honest somehow. Lies don't slip from her lips very easily.

And yet she has to keep this secret from the man she's known and loved for decades. There are times when even the lieutenant of a division that tends to shun combat whenever possible wants to rip his throat out. Why can't they attack him? Why can't Soul Society mourn for a lieutenant and two young officers tragically found dead in their beds?

Yadoumaru Lisa knows why they can't in her head. There isn't any evidence for his crimes, he's got insane power levels, the eight are likely to be executed if their new natures are discovered, on and on. Urahara prattled forever about it so Hiyori'd get it. But in her heart, Lisa burns with righteous anger and a desperate thirst for justice, for vengeance. She doesn't think of herself as an emotional person, at least not when she isn't with Kyouraku, but Aizen stirs a cauldron of hate in her heart just at the mention of his name.

The bookworm of the Eighth Division thought she knew hate. She thought she knew the feeling of being unable to stand being in the same room as someone else, making biting comments for no real reason, wanting to do cruel things to a person at the slightest offense. Now the black-haired woman knows that that isn't hate.

Hate is acid at the back of her throat when she sees him. Hate is repressing a white-hot murderous fury beneath a cool exterior and knowing that sooner or later the fewmets are going to hit the windmill. It's the raw grief and pain when she remembers what was done to them and that no one can ever know of the agony and helplessness of that night. Hate is the tight grip on her sword that Lisa forces herself to release at hearing Aizen's name mentioned.

The glasses-wearing Shinigami sits beneath a tree in the Eighth Division's courtyard with Kyouraku, listening to him make dirty jokes as she reads her latest novel. He plucks it out of her hands, examining the cover briefly. A slender _kunoichi _in a flower-print kimono kneels in front of an extraordinarily handsome samurai, tears in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks as she looks up at him beneath the title.

"_The Night Lessons of the Steel-Spun Flower, _huh?" The tanned man comments. "Any good, my lovely Lisa-chan?"

"I'm not your anything," Lisa retorts, snatching it back. "But yes, it's decent. A little tame sometimes."

Kyouraku hums in acknowledgement as he takes another sip of sake. "As long as you're wilder, that book can be as tame as it likes." He teases.

She elbows him in the ribs, causing the flower-print-kimono-clad captain to nearly drop his bottle. "Aw, what was that for?" The amazingly alcohol-resistant man whines.

"For being unprofessional. And not getting all of your paperwork done the other day." His lieutenant replies. "It was a pain to go find your seal."

"Can't I make it up to you later?" Kyouraku asks, brushing a strand of hair out of his lieutenant's face.

"_Later, _idiot." Lisa says irritably. His fingers are just so close, right there, ready to gouge her eyes out, ready to hurt and peel away the mask and-She shakes the thought out of her head, grabbing the brown-haired Shinigami's wrist and yanking his hand away from her face. "Not now."

The Eighth Division's lieutenant coughs suddenly, body spasming as more hacking coughs follow the first one. Kyouraku touches her shoulder worriedly.

"Lisa-chan? Are you okay?" He asks.

In between coughs, Lisa hoarsely replies, "Fine, stupid. Go 'way."

Stomach muscles burning as if she's just tried to do a hundred sit-ups in three seconds, the black-haired woman finally twists to the side and deposits the contents of her stomach onto the grass. She heaves up everything she's eaten that day, bile searing her tongue and lips.

"Not so fine." She mumbles from beneath wisps of hair flecked with the vomit that accumulated there before her captain thought to grab his lieutenant's twin braids.

In the next two days, the other Shinigami-Hollow hybrids start to throw up as well, much to Kurotsuchi Mayuri's dismay when Hiyori inadvertently ruins one of his experiments. It doesn't stop there, though. The eight continue to involuntarily attempt to rid their bodies of every bit of food inside them.

The worst moment is when Lisa, eavesdropping beneath the window of the captains' meeting hall, hears an "oh, Niten's brush" from Rose, and subsequently sympathy pukes when the blond vomits onto the wooden floor. Not only does it get her chastised for spying on the meeting, Unohana's right there and wants to examine the two to make sure they don't have any contagious illness. Thankfully, Shinji manages to talk her out of it with the excuse that some bars in the Rukongai are sub-par and Rose and Lisa must have been drinking at one of them.

At first Kyouraku's lieutenant is a bit confused. After all, Unohana might know some obscure technique for healing them of the monsters inside, whatever the resident mad scientist might say about the task's impossibility. Urahara explains later that the Fourth Division's Captain would have to scan their _reiatsu _if she tried to heal them, and beneath the currently-stronger Shinigami power is a separate, darker power, exuded by their inner Hollows. It isn't something that an ordinary healer is likely to notice, and passing Shinigami don't consciously pick up on it, but Unohana isn't an ordinary healer, and she would have to make a detailed examination of the 'sick' Shinigami's _reiatsu. _

No, better to try to manage the symptoms with what Urahara cooks up and their own Kido. Lisa's own power is like a child sprinkling water on a mountain to the weakening attacks of the Hollow in her head. It has a little effect, but not enough to make a difference or truly change anything.

Falling asleep beside Kyouraku one night, breathing slowing from an almost frenzied state, the dark-haired woman has the sinking feeling that sooner or later she won't be able to hold the shattered pieces that used to be Yadomaru Lisa together.

Sooner or later, Kyouraku's china doll is going to break for good.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_I haven't the faintest idea why, but I just had to write Rose as cursing with the names of famous artists. Niten was the first one who came to mind that actually made sense for a man living in a feudal Japan-esque society, so I think it worked._


	6. Prying at the Masks

_Here I am again! Thanks to those reviewers who gave me advice; I think I'll do just that. Works well enough for one of my other fanfics, after all! Also, while I am going to cycle through all the Visored (in case anyone wondered, they don't call themselves Visored because they haven't yet come to think of themselves as being anything but Shinigami) in storytelling, I might get the perspectives of outsiders. Kyouraku, Yoruichi, Urahara, maybe Tessai, even one of my OC's if anyone thinks that would work. I'm rather wary of writing them in as anything but minor characters because it sometimes annoys me when original characters are inserted into Bleach stories, as they are frequently Mary Sues. Eh, well._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

This whole thing blows.

That simple sentence pretty much sums up Hiyori's life right now. First Hikifune left, then that lazy idiot Urahara got made captain and changes the whole squad, and then that backstabber Aizen turned them part-Hollow. And Blondie had the nerve to tell the eight that they've got to wait to give him the world of pain he deserves? He doesn't get what it feels like to have your head put under Jidanbo's boot so your skull spurts out through your mouth and eyes.

Obviously that isn't what happened. But that's what the transformation felt like. Hiyori doesn't even want to get into what happened when she attacked the king dickhead. When _it _attacked him. The blond is determined to think that it wasn't her who hurt him. After all, Sarugaki Hiyori doesn't need a sword to inflict pain on the Fifth Squad's captain..

That mime-clown-freak Kurotsuchi tossed the pigtailed lieutenant out of the lab today for spilling chemicals for the umpteenth time with her perpetually-shaking hands, so she sits outside hoping that someone from another squad will come by to talk with her. It isn't that the second-shortest seated officer in all of Seireitei wants to talk to people- she doesn't like anyone and lets them know it. But it's really, really boring waiting for the temperamental Shinigami to let her back in. Pretty much anything interesting would be great.

Hiyori scowls-well, more deeply than she normally does- as she looks down at her hands, playing with a blade of grass absentmindedly. It's a real pain, but no amount of deep breathing calms the tremors enough for really delicate operations in the lab. Probably won't interfere with the other hybrids' lives much when they get shaky, assuming they follow the pattern that's been set so far by the symptoms. One person gets a symptom and the rest follow over the next couple days. Well, Rose might have some trouble playing his sissy music and painting, but Hiyori doesn't really care too much about that.

"Hey, punk." A boyish voice snaps. "Yer captain in there? Mine's got a message fer 'im."

The blonde cranes her head up at the figure standing above her. Right in the sun, irritatingly enough, so Urahara's lieutenant shades her eyes and squints at him.

Grey eyes glare down at her. "Hey, I asked ya a question, answer me!" He demands impatiently. "I gotta beat it outta you or something, midget?"

That's all it takes to send Hiyori surging to her feet, sneering at the other Shinigami. "Like a little old man could beat me!" She exclaims, jabbing a thumb at her chest. "'Sides, I'm still growing, unlike you!"

With both parties' berserk buttons pressed, the other combatant leans forwards on his toes, bellowing, "I'm not an old man, pipsqueak! And I'm growin' too! I'm already taller than you!"

"You expect me to believe that? I might as well be the new Kenpachi compared to you!" The lieutenant of the Twelfth Division retorts.

"Ya little sh-" Her opponent in the shouting match is cut off by the appearance of Urahara himself, blinking rapidly at the sudden bright light.

"My, so loud so early in the morning." He says cheerfully, ignoring the grumbles of Hiyori that it's in fact one in the afternoon. "Now, who might you be?" The messy-haired captain asks, bending down a bit to look the boy in the eye.

"The name's Matsushima Ryuu, Sixth Seat of the Ninth Division." Dark grey hair is brushed away from a scowling face with one hand as Ryuu uses the other hand to shove Urahara's chin up roughly. "Don't do that. I'm not _that _short."

"Ow..." Urahara mumbles as he rubs his jaw. Probably doesn't even hurt him, that phony.

"So you admit it! You're short!" Hiyori crows gleefully.

"At least I'm not runty like you," the belligerent Shinigami scoffs.

Before the argument can start again, the Twelfth Division's captain steps in between the two, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Nice to meet you, Matsushima-kun, but would you mind keeping it down and not starting fights with my lieutenant? The researchers are so very sensitive, and Sarugaki-san's been sick lately, so..." He trails off, expecting Kensei's newly-replaced sixth seat to finish the sentence, which he does grudgingly.

"Fine." The spiky-haired Shinigami replies, scuffing his sandals in the dirt and pulling a letter out of a pouch on his back, dangling besides a gold-sheated _wakizashi. _"Shoulda stuck it by my side, but the thing swings out and smacks me in the crotch if I do that." Ryuu says casually, Urahara wincing in sympathy. Not like he needs to, as Hiyori found out the hard way.

"Anyway, here's Muguruma-taicho's letter. Said I shouldn't be openin' it and it was for yer eyes only." The blonde would've expected someone like Rose to say that, with his love of drama, but not the down-to-earth Kensei. Maybe today he wasn't feeling a particular desire to keep things as short as possible, or the grey-haired teen was paraphrasing. Probably the latter, since his captain very rarely changed his behavior patterns.

The grey-haired boy holds the letter out to Urahara, who takes it with a flourish. "Don't see why he can't just send a coded hell butterfly over. I'm not a messenger gi-guy." Ryuu mutters. "Need me ta send a message back while I'm here?" He asks.

"Yeah." Hiyori interjects. "Tell him to send someone halfway competent next time." She smirks at the other short Shinigami, who delivers a scowl and glare that could peel the paint off of Kurotsuchi's creepy face.

"Shut up, punk. I'll take ya on when ya heal up." Kensei's sixth seat says acridly. "If that's all, I'm headin' off to do my job." He directs a pointed glance at the Hollow-Shinigami hybrid.

"That's all, Matsushima-kun." Urahara says cheerily before his lieutenant can start another fight. "Bye!" He waves at the tiny seated officer, who's already turned to leave.

Ryuu doesn't bother to return the farewell before he blurs out of sight and flash-steps back to his division.

Casting a quick glance around, and, if Hiyori's spirit sense is to be trusted, stretching out with his spirit sense, the deceptively silly captain opens the letter and begins to read it.

As he does, Urahara adds, "Sarugaki-san, it would be better if you could try to restrain your aggression. Strong emotions are excellent ways to make yourself vulnerable mentally and physically." The implication of exactly what she would be making herself vulnerable to is left hanging in the air. "I'm serious, truly. If you value your life, my dear lieutenant, behave better."

"Whatever, baldy." She grumbles. "What's the letter say?"

The blond man flaps his hand at her. "Oh, this and that. I might have to ask you to be my messenger girl in the future, though. And tell me if your weight's changing."

"What's that supposed to mean, stupid?" Hiyori demands. "You implying I'm getting fat or something?"

Urahara waves his hands in front of him hurriedly, as if to try to sweep away her irritation. "No, no! Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. Muguruma-san thinks that Kuna-chan might be starting on an involuntary weight loss program, but she won't actually tell him. Just watch out, okay?"

His lieutenant grunts in acknowledgement. "Did the mime decide I could come back in yet?" She changes the subject quickly.

"'Fraid not, and no, I won't override him. You're going to have to stay out of the lab for a while, Sarugaki-san. Go to one of Unohana-taicho's flower-arranging classes, maybe. I hear they're quite fun." The blond replies.

"Like hell I'll go to a flower-arranging class." His lieutenant retorts angrily. "I'm heading off to Rukongai." She rises, stalking off with a fury that she doesn't feel like explaining to herself.

Behind her, Urahara murmurs, "Oh dear." In his haste to placate Hiyori, the blond had let go of Kensei's letter. He glances around, finding it nowhere in sight as a breeze sighs through his constantly-messy hair. "At least Muguruma-san thought to put it in code..."

**-I am a line break, changing the scene-**

The crumpled piece of paper skitters over the roofs of the Pure White Court, stopping when it plasters itself across an unfortunate Shinigami's face.

"Wh-what?" the man sputters, skidding to a stop and nearly tripping over his own feet as he yanks it off his face and uncrumples it.

A frown crosses the Shinigami's face as he scans the letter.

"Coded, hmm?" the long-haired man murmurs to himself. "Only reason for code is to plot...there are rebels in Seireitei."

He folds it up, sticking it beneath the chest of his uniform for further study. No one gets to disturb the peace on his watch.

Kojima Masaaki knows the chaos of rebellion, and the way it can claim the life of an innocent woman, and he won't let it spread again.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_So, I decided to take a hint and let Aizen- by the way, I adore his captain mask and his messy-hair-with-glasses look, though I hate him after he defects- expose and destroy the Visored. But I have my own machinations, and I don't think it would be too hard for a certain Fourth Seat to play a little role in that. Anyone reading this go to Anime Boston? Amazing con, and I'm proud to say that I attended, purchased some Bleach merchandise, and worked up the courage to ask a rather tall Kurosaki Ichigo cosplayer for a picture with him. Thanks loads to him for agreeing to it and thanks to everyone who made my first convention so much fun by dressing up and holding panels! The beautiful Kuchiki Rukia cosplayer made my day as well._


	7. Clinging to the Masks

_So, when I said that my OCs wouldn't have plot roles, I honestly meant it at the time. And then somehow my fingers typed out the last chapter and I don't know what happened. Hey, it works for my other stories, so it'll probably work for this. You may have already guessed that I use -san when I don't know the right honorific. Maybe not. If you didn't, there's a nice little fun fact for you!_

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

There just isn't an art to this, Rose reflects. No one's ever had a need to create an art for staving off losing your mind and soul, so he supposes that makes sense.

But still. It isn't dignified to have to ask someone to retake your measurements when you're replacing your _shihakusho _after your other uniforms have become too dirty and torn to wear because you can't believe that you've really become so much skinnier. Explains why his last kimono didn't fit quite right, at least.

But hey, the blond can make skinny work, right? Maybe he'll go for the starving-artist look or something like that. Rose knows how to fit some sort of fine art into nearly any situation you can imagine, and the art of making a fashion statement is one he knows well. It was the Third Division's captain who convinced Kyouraku that his beloved flower-print overcoat just wouldn't attract the ladies unless he paired it with a straw hat. So far, only Lisa's begun to warm to it.

These things take time, though. The dramatic Rose hopes that he has enough to see his advice come true for his friend.

It's been about two months since That Night. In his mind, the bird-masked hybrid can't help but capitalize it. It doesn't seem sufficiently important-looking to him unless he does. Not that anyone's reading Rose's thoughts or anything. Nonetheless, he thinks of it as That Night, as if it makes a difference to anyone.

Iba Chikane, his lieutenant, is haranguing him again about how much he eats. When the wavy-haired captain tunes back in, she's saying,

"-you even listening to me, Otouribashi? You're losing weight; you need to compensate!" She barks, turning away in frustration as he finally turns his eyes up to her and running the fingers of her right hand through the grey streak in her hair.

"Honestly! Why did I ever agree to being your lieutenant?" The sharp-faced woman asks.

Rose makes an exaggerated sigh. "I haven't the faintest idea. You aren't a doctor, anyway, Iba-san. I say I'm fine, and it's just-"

"-just a bug that's going around, I know!" Chikane exclaims. "You keep saying that, and it drives me crazy. _I _say that you haven't been fine since that mission a few months back, and- you know what? I'm doing the paperwork today, and you're going to stay in bed. I don't care if you aren't that sick, you'll stay out of my hair that way and you won't risk making yourself worse. Got it?" She whirls and jabs a finger at the sitting man, crossing the room and tugging on the shoulder of his _haori _in an attempt to force him out of his seat.

"I'm going, I'm going." Rose mumbles, standing up. A good excuse to get out of work, in any event, and a chance to read that manga Love lent him a week or so back. There just hasn't been a chance, with the meticulous reports Urahara demands and the lengths the resident musician has to go to keep them secret.

Alright, so he doesn't have to go to the lengths that he does, but it just doesn't as if he's doing it right if he does anything less. Keeping secrets should be an involved, furtive process, or so the Third Division's captain believes, one that you only break on your deathbed before giving up your last breath and leave your descendants to solve the mystery.

Never mind that the Twelfth Division's captain isn't sure or eager to test if the eight can have normal descendants. It makes for a good imagining.

As soon as Rose is alone in his room, he carefully removes and folds his _haori, _setting it by Kinshara gently next to his bed and taking a seat in one of the two chairs he keeps in his room for drinking sessions with Kyouraku. The blond opens his copy of _Perils of the Seven Blades, _already dog-eared by Love in many places. He grumbles a bit, unfolding each one while simultaneously trying to avoid looking at each page. Spoilers wouldn't do, after all.

It's about halfway through the volume that the Third Division's captain has to look away from the pages, room spinning around him. It doesn't help that his inner Hollow's saccharine-sweet voice has been crawling through his mind the whole time, though Rose tries valiantly to ignore it.

**"Ah, such a shame, King. Being ignored is just so annoying, so I thought I'd remind you never to take your mind off me." **It purrs, scratchy tones echoing at the edges of its words.

_Rather selfish, don't you think? _The Hollow's unwilling host replies. _Especially for something that still hasn't made good on its promise to take control. Don't you know the hero always has enough willpower to resist the curse? _

**"So rude. You think you can diminish my power by trying to convince yourself I'm a minor inconvenience, a curse?" **The Hollow whispers, something resembling condescension in its voice. Not condescension, exactly. closer to the tone a wolf would use to a deer when its pack cut off all escape if it could speak. **"By the time I'm through with you, all your friends will call you a monster. Even _you _will call yourself a monster. There's no author to give your story a happy ending, King!"**

Just as quickly as the creature had spoken, its presence fades until it's barely noticeable, like a day that's just a little too warm but not enough to be called hot. Barely noticeable doesn't mean gone, though, and Rose knows without knowing how he knows that the presence of the Hollow is just a little bit stronger than the last time.

Losing his near-legendary composure- second only to Kuchiki Ginrei's- for once, the blond slams his book closed and tosses it carelessly at his bed's end table. The thing slides off and falls onto the floor, stoking further irritation in the hybrid's heart.

He surges to his feet to begin pacing, managing no more than a few dramatically heavy steps before his muscles seize suddenly and he stumbles, bracing himself on the bedpost. Rose sits down heavily on the bed, flopping back in a way that Shinji would compare to an upset teenage girl after a long day.

"Josetsu's screen." the Third Division's captain says to himself, teeth gritted. He can't go out through the door, since Chikane's bound to harass him again if he does. At the same time, Rose has a strong feeling that he couldn't manage the fine control necessary to create spirit platforms if he left through the window in his agitated state.

So instead of leaving, the violet-eyed man crosses his stiff legs and tries to meditate. He doesn't dare go into his soul world- if the monster inside can reach him even when he isn't trying to attune himself to his spirit power, he would be far more vulnerable if he tried such a thing. No, Rose thinks one sentence to himself over and over again, just as the great heroes of his favorite novels and plays have mantras to push themselves beyond the impossible.

_I'm Shinigami, not Hollow. _

A little voice in the back of his mind, one that has nothing to do with the absent Kinshara or the inner Hollow, tells the blond that it's only a matter of time before someone starts to chip away at his mask.

Just a matter of time before the masquerade is brought to an inevitable halt.

**-I am a line break, changing the scene-**

In the Great Archives of Soul Society, known to anyone who didn't have a ceremonial stick rammed up their nether orifice as 'the big library', a black-haired man sat with three code books in front of him. Captains and lieutenants were required to know many codes in the event of war, even more if they were Onmitsukido. Kojima Masaaki was neither a captain nor a lieutenant, and had no particular desire to be one as long as he could fulfill his duty as a Shinigami. But he did need to break the code used by the suspected rebels, and there was no better place to start than here.

In the three weeks or so since his discovery of Urahara and Kensei's letter, not that he knew who the sender and recipient were, the fourth seat had spent all his free time and even a little bit of time he should have been using for other purposes trying to crack the code. Many late nights, made a bit more palatable by the living world beverage coffee, had been spent beneath the bluish lights of the library.

Yet somehow Masaaki forced his brain to keep jumping through hurdles hour after hour, alleviating the headaches that visited him with medicine reluctantly given by the Fourth Division.

It was about three in the morning when he comes upon an obscure, faintly printed cipher in the dustiest of the books that gives him pause for some reason. Beneath one line, someone had written the careful, smooth kanji for 'encryption', while beneath the other that same someone had written the kanji for 'decryption.'

"One last try for the night...for the morning?" The green-eyed man murmurs to himself with the faint bemusement that only a bone-tired person knows.

A desperate, forced hope drives the broad-shouldered fourth seat to apply the decryption method to the first line of the letter.

"_I need your help again. My subordinates are starting to suspect that something is up, even if they don't know what._" Masaaki reads aloud after about ten or fifteen minutes, voice dripping with exhaustion and a hint of shock.

As the code unravels, a little thread too begins to unravel the tapestry of lies and masks.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_I'm well aware that it's a bit unusual to not add an article before Shinigami and Hollow in Rose's little Madness Mantra. However, in some cases I consider Shinigami to refer more to a race than a title, and the same goes for Hollow. This is further supported, in my mind, by the fact that the Bleach Wiki refers to Shinigami as being a race. Therefore, as one probably wouldn't say of someone, "He is a white", but instead, "He is white", I chose to leave off the article._

_Guess whose nice handwriting that was?_


	8. Features Showing Beneath the Masks

_Forgive me, as I think that Love might be a bit OOC in this chapter. I've tried my best to portray him as he is in canon, but I can only do so much without being Kubo. Or Kubo being me. That expression really confuses me, y'know? I mean, I understand how people mean it. But when you think about it, 'if I were you' is really illogical. Because, see, if the speaker was the person being spoken to, the person being spoken to wouldn't be themselves, they would be the speaker._

_...Okay, that doesn't make much sense when I write it out. But it makes sense in my mind. In any event, this chapter will be split between Love's perspective and (Aizen's soon-to-be tool) Kojima's perspective. Also, anyone with questions about the Masks-continuity (I refer to it as such in my mind to keep things separate from canon-continuity) may PM me, and I'll see if I can answer them through PMs._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

Love believes in training the division as a whole, pairing members up with those roughly equal to them in strength. It's impossible to keep the peace and have respect for your fellow Shinigami, as is the duty of the Seventh Division, if you don't know their capabilities.

So today he and Kotsubaki Jin'emon, the Seventh Division's lieutenant, have gathered their subordinates in a courtyard for that exact purpose. The method isn't perfect; Love and Jin'emon, as the two most powerful members of the division while still being separate in skill level, usually can't spar in the same way that the others can. The ponytailed man pushes himself against his captain, who holds himself back the whole time. It just isn't a very profitable experience.

Usually is the key word, though. Love's inner Hollow weakens him as much as it can at its current level of power, which brings him a bit closer to a lieutenant's strength and makes it a bit easier for Jin'emon to train against him.

The two stand in front of each other, panting and holding their Zanpakutos in front of them defensively.

"Pause." The afro-sporting captain tells his lieutenant, straightening and sheathing Tengumaru as he turns to the other Shinigami sparring nearby.

"Hey, guys!" He calls. "And ladies," he adds as a few of the female Shinigami give him dirty looks. "Switch partners. Try and pick someone you can handle, but it's no skin off my back if you choose wrong."

_Just as long as you don't choose me..._ Love thinks to himself. Increasingly, anyone sufficiently beneath him in strength- say, beneath fifth seat, but even Matsumoto lately- has begun to look temptingly vulnerable, so many weak points. Just a jab here, twist there, a quick slice with claws he doesn't have, and they'll crumple. More like livestock, the kind he'd butcher for dinner back in the Rukongai.

The laid-back hybrid's mouth waters at the memories, though not of the feasts they'd have for special occasions, but instead of the animals' corpses once he'd killed them, before they had been bled out. Unbidden, the image of Urahara's dead body, eyes gouged out and body otherwise mauled as if by a tiger, surfaces in his mind, briefly replacing the world around him. Love's mouth waters further, disgusting him.

The Seventh Division's captain blinks hard, spitting on the ground besides him and narrowly missing Jin'emon's sandaled foot.

"Whaa? What was that for, Captain?" He exclaims, jumping back. "I know I'm not on your level, but that wasn't called for!"

_Whoops. _Love rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that, Kotsubaki-san. Bad taste in my mouth, and I didn't think it was the right time to go get water."

"Oh." The excitable man calms down quickly. One of the nice things about Jin'emon is that even if he's apt to work himself into a frenzy over small things, as soon as the situation's resolved he's as calm as before the incident occurred. "So, back to sparring?"

Love smiles in response. "Of course. Be ready!" He lunges forward, drawing Tengumaru again in mid-leap and swinging the sword down at his lieutenant while Jin'emon, whose sword Laksha Byobu has a slightly shorter reach than his captain's, is unable to reach him.

The two clash in a clang of steel and a shower of sparks. Sliding into flash-step, both men are visible only to their subordinates when their blades meet, arresting their movements. Love might outclass Jin'emon, but he has to work for it now, sweat beading on his forehead.

**"Strike!" **The sudden, savagely delighted howl catches him off guard, and for a second the Seventh Division's captain stumbles as he's caught between instinctively following the order and resisting the Hollow.

A second is all Jin'emon needs to move in and let his blade slice into Love, making thin, shallow cuts on his captain's torso. First blood. The very first time the Seventh Division's lieutenant has ever earned it against Love, too.

The afro-sporting hybrid winces, leaping backwards to assess the situation. It isn't as if he needs strategy per se, since this is hardly a battle, but Love needs to steel himself again, having been shaken by the unexpected outburst from the monster in his head.

All he gets is a few seconds before Jin'emon, encouraged by his achievement, attacks again. Sloppy swordsmanship, Love notes absently. He'd have to work on his lieutenant's ability to maintain good form even when emotional.

What happens next is a little bit unclear and blurry to Love afterwards, but somehow crystal clear in the moment. Every weak point on Jin'emon's body is practically screaming at him, blood pounding in his ears to a heartbeat that doesn't belong to him. If the tall man was to be pressed for details, he would say that it felt as if his blade was being tugged by a thousand invisible, intangible strings towards every vulnerable spot.

For just a moment, Aizen Sosuke's form is superimposed over the sunglasses-wearing man, just a bit stronger than Jin'emon's actual form. Perhaps spurred on by the blood dribbling from his body, perhaps by the Hollow's doing and instincts, fury fills Love. Irony in naming at its finest.

Tengumaru slashes out with a vengeful speed, bisecting Laksha Byobu into a jagged stub. Even as the world's greatest 'oh crap' expression spreads on his lieutenant's face, Love keeps going well beyond that, driving his blade through Jin'emon's shoulder with his right hand. What little self-control is left in him keeps his sword from piercing a much more lethal point.

The Seventh Division's captain lashes out with his left hand at Jin'emon's face, palm open in a blow that isn't quite a slap, closer to a grappling strike. The sudden pain in his fingers and toes, as well as the blood dripping down his lieutenant's face, snaps Love back to normal, or what attempts to pass for normal nowadays.

Love draws back abruptly, removing Tengumaru shaking his head sharply in equal parts denial of events and confusion. A glance at his hand reveals hooked, cat-like claws tipping each digit, stained with blood at their bases and tips, leaving a white stripe in between. If that's anything to go by, his other fingers and toes are the same way, and Love quickly hides his hands behind his back.

_Go back to normal, dammit! _He thinks frantically. A sharp pain flares again, and a glance at his toes reveals that apart from quickly-scabbing finger- and toe-tips and the bloodstains on his socks and hands, the hybrid's digits look perfectly ordinary.

Blessedly, the blood dripping from a freshly-formed cut crossing Jin'emon's left eye, and the minor fact that _he might just lose that eye _makes it hard for the lieutenant to see the partial transformation.

"C-captain Aikawa..." The man says in a shaky voice that sounds as if he can't decide between throwing up and passing out.

_Right. Medical attention. _"Hey! You, one of you! Get the Fourth Division _yesterday! _He needs help!" Love bellows, a small handful of Shingami recovering from their stunned horror to do just that.

A lot of panic, healing Kido, and amazingly unflappable Unohana Retsu later, and Jin'emon is likely to keep his eye, albeit with a wicked scar. Love makes up a story about instinctively lashing out and not noticing that he'd accidentally picked up a sharp rock, which probably doesn't fool the Fourth Division's captain, but it gets her off his back for a while. All the afro-sporting man needs to do is give her a semi-plausible explanation that she has no reason to question or alternative explanation for.

Love apologizes multiple times to his lieutenant, who waves it away weakly with a groaned demand for the hybrid to make it up to him with sake later. Then the healers take him away, and he's left standing alone in the courtyard, having dismissed his division members to their personal lives sometime during the chaos.

Only problem is, Aikawa Love isn't quite alone...

**-I am a line break, changing the scene-**

Kojima Masaaki crouches on a nearby rooftop, obscuring himself with Kido. He's been spying at various places around Seireitei recently, trying to catch rebel plots. So far, nothing has taken place, but the black-haired Shinigami is sure that he'll find some evidence eventually.

It was just chance that he eavesdropped on Seventh Division training, just chance that he caught the out-of-control spar between Jin'emon and Love. That was when he saw the latter lash out at the former, and Masaaki knows that the hybrid never even touched the ground, never had a chance to grab a rock.

Which make the lie that the fourth seat hears Love give to Unohana even more troubling and confusing, particularly since he has personal experience with wild animals and how claw marks look. Shinigami do not have claws, and he knows this.

Decryption of the coded message had been slow. Masaaki has had to catch up on the work he missed, and complete more current assignments, all while working with the rest of his division. He knows only these lines:

_"__I need your help again. My subordinates are starting to suspect that something is up, even if they don't know what. If there's a way you can throw them off my track, do it. I'm still hearing from him, and _she_ is keeping things from me. More than we're all keeping secrets, anyway."_

Vague, so vague in those opening lines. But Masaaki's memorized it forwards and backwards, in code and in regular Japanese.

He's going to unearth those secrets, and figure out just what is up with Love.

He'll do it if it kills him.

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_I kinda felt like writing a bit more into Masaaki's part, but I need sleep just as much as you humans- I mean everyone else does. Kidding, of course, I'm to the best of my knowledge not in an anime and therefore not a half-human hybrid or secretly a mutant or anything like that. _

_Laksha is clearly not Japanese, but it is Sanskrit for "one hundred thousand" according to my sources and is the root of our English word lacquer. Unable to find a mythological reference to someone who killed oni and such, I decided that since a feudal lord killed an onibaba in one tale, I'd theme Jin'emon's Zanpakuto that way. Hence, a name that in one part refers to lacquer and in another part refers to folding screens, both traditional decorations. _

_...Yeah, I think it's a bit stupid too._


	9. Watching the Masks

_Hey! It's me again, and now that I've cycled through the Visored's perspective- man, Love is really hard to write! stupid minor major character status- I'll bounce around from person to person as I think the story would be best told. I've done my very best to show the steady progression of symptoms of Hollowfication in each chapter. I really don't think that the simple matter of occasional paralysis, talking in the host's head, and nightmares (I think) were sufficient in canon with Ichigo's experience, so I amped it up here. Maybe it's an off-screen thing, though. _

_So, to sum things up: It's been a little more than three and a half months since the Hollowfication at the start of this chapter, and the Visored are experiencing silencing of their Zanpakuto spirits, hearing voices, temporary paralysis, vomiting, unhealthy weight loss, coughing, hand tremors, bouts of extreme aggression, slight involuntary transformation, leaking of Hollow reiatsu, and a bit of paranoia. Don't worry, I won't add to the physical symptoms- I _will_ increase the severity and natural consequences, but the rest will be mental and willfully induced by the Visored themselves._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

For once, Juu-chan has competition in terms of 'who can be more mysteriously ill.' Though at least in his case, the cure, if there is one, for his illness is the mystery, not the illness itself. Lisa-chan and the others are a mystery all around.

They're all far thinner than they should be, especially the naturally slender lieutenant. It isn't approaching dangerous levels quite yet, and so far no one's actually been able to pin one of the sick people down to get a look at what's wrong with them.

Still, Kyouraku thinks, Unohana won't stand for refusal much longer. As gentle and maternal as she looks, the Fourth Division's captain is also quite powerful and as martially trained as any other captain has to be to reach their position. When Unohana looks you in the eye, smiles slightly, and asks in perfectly polite and sweet Japanese that you do something, you do it. No question. Maybe it's the fact that her smile is one that appears to stem from another, darker source rather than the situation around her, or maybe it's the minor detail that the black-braided woman is a captain of the Gotei 13 for several very good and very violent reasons.

Rose doesn't come drinking with his equally flamboyant friend anymore, leaving Matsumoto as his only drinking buddy. There are a couple perks to hanging around Rangiku, to say the least, but she can't replace the feeling that there should be another wavy-haired blond lying among the cups of sake.

Kyouraku is jerked out of his thoughts by a pebble between his eyes, promptly noticing that the rest of the captains around him are giving him 'Are you kidding me?' looks of various degrees, save for Rose, Shinji, and Kenpachi, who all maintain their usual expressions of boredom. A dark head ducking back down beneath the windowsill makes it clear that his lieutenant is the culprit. Shunsui supposes that he should break her of that habit, but it was the only reason that he could get her sent to that mission a few months back promptly, and that turned out well enough that maybe it's better that she be allowed to eavesdrop.

The Eighth Division's captain rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly.

"Ah..." He laughs semi-nervously. "Carry on."

With an exasperated sigh from Yama-jii, the meeting resumes with talk of how to reduce the repair budget that the Eleventh Division necessitates.

"Did I miss anything important?" Kyouraku murmurs to Isshin besides him, an expression of concentration on the latter's face.

"Mmm?" The Tenth Division's captain replies absently. "I wasn't really paying attention to the meeting either."

Alright, maybe asking him wasn't the best idea, but the other alternative is Sixth Division Captain Kuchiki- the sheer noble stiffness of the man makes it impossible not to call him by his full title. And frankly, the stick rammed up the old man's nether orifice is one that he would probably ram down your throat if you tried to get him to be complicit in any rule-breaking. As captains are supposed to be silent unless their division is explicitly involved in a problem or they are asked for opinions during a meeting, asking for a little help catching up isn't really an option.

When all the orders of business have been finished, the captains file out. Some move briskly- the aforementioned Captain Kuchiki, despite his advanced age, is one of them. Others, such as Shinji and Shunsui, take their sweet time. No reason to stride when you can stroll, after all.

The Fifth and Eighth Division captains walk side by side, pausing momentarily to let Unohana leave before them. The last person to cut her off had an extremely extended and painful stay in the Fourth Division when he was next wounded, and his experience was warning enough.

A few of the lieutenants are waiting outside, more or less patiently. Yamada Seinosuke is there, and he starts talking to Unohana as soon as she's within a few yards of him about some new healing Kido, rough speech switching to amazingly formal Japanese in an instant. It's a veritable miracle that anyone with a delinquent's character could become the black-braided woman's lieutenant, but then, it's a miracle that Urahara wakes up anywhere close to on time for meetings, so perhaps it's simply a miraculous world they live in.

Kyouraku just happens to catch sight of Shinji's face as the latter spies his lieutenant approaching, and is unsettled by the expression of all-consuming hate that momentarily wipes away the lazy grin on the blond's face. It's not dull dislike, like the kind Kenpachi has for meetings, or frenzied loathing like Hiyori's infamous attitude towards her captain, or even the deep-running animosity that Captain Kuchiki holds for law-breakers. The feeling that dominates Shinji's entire appearance widens his eyes like a trapped animal's, draws his lips back in a snarl, clenches his fists as the blond's posture changes into something much more primal.

Kyouraku grasps all this in the space of a second, before the Fifth Division's captain's standard cat-like smile returns, straightening again while somehow managing to slouch at the same time. But that's part of Shinji's usual facade, and Kyouraku would be a hypocrite to deny him that one thing of which everyone has some measure. Though the sake-loving man had always thought that something rather different lay beneath his friend's public persona...

The blond raises a hand in greeting to his lieutenant, calling out, "Hey, Aizen! Ya decided to stop by, huh? Got somethin' fer me to see?"

Aizen doesn't change his pace, but simply lets his measured steps cross the distance between himself and his captain. The faint awkwardness created is erased as the glasses-wearing man gets within the distance generally considered proper for polite conversation.

"Hirako-taicho. A roving band of Hollows has been detected moving closer to the Seireitei than the nobles prefer," he sends an apologetic glance to Kyouraku for the slightly derisive tone, who waves it off with a smile, "and the Fifth Division has been called upon to prepare a squad to send out tomorrow. I was unsure if you wanted to decide who would be going yourself, as they are strong from what the reports say." Aizen adjusts his glasses uncomfortably. "Would you like me to attend to-"

"Nah, I'll figure it out. Maybe go myself; gives me somethin' to do." His captain cuts in. "The report on my desk?"

Aizen nods. "If Lieutenant Kusajishi hasn't gotten to it to send her captain off on a hunt for them." The two share a wry smile. The pink-haired Shinigami is known for getting into even the most highly guarded places with the power of sugar and her own fearsome spirit power, as all Seireitei well knows. "Are you sure you're...?" He trails off, hesitant to question his captain's abilities. Not that Shinji is likely to try to prove them, but it's a fair point. The blond is a few shades paler than he ought to be and several pounds lighter, prone to the odd jerky movement or sudden need to excuse himself from the premises to throw up.

The Fifth Division's captain waves it off. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Honestly, yer like a mother hen." He nods at Kyouraku. "Sorry, I'll have to catch up with ya later. Duty calls and all that." The blond rolls his eyes, flash-stepping away before Kyouraku can make any sort of response.

The flamboyant captain sighs in exasperation. Shinji loves to have the last word, and he has an unfortunate tendency to make sure of that in everyday conversations.

"Well, Lieutenant Aizen, it's been nice seeing you around. I don't suppose I can interest you in a little bar-hopping tonight? Matsumoto-chan's going to be there..." Kyouraku says, making sure to quirk his eyebrows suggestively.

He's rewarded with a faint blush appearing on the mild-mannered lieutenant's features, but that's all. Aizen gives him a gracious smile and a shake of his head.

"I'm afraid that I cannot go tonight, Captain Kyouraku. Hirako-taicho's had to neglect a bit of paperwork and it's begun to pile up," he replies apologetically. "I'll need to stay late to complete it."

Lisa's tormentor chuckles. "So straight-laced. Fine, fine, if you've got to pick up Hirako-san's slack, I won't try and keep you from it. See you around." He turns and ambles away, back to the Eighth Division, where his own paperwork awaits. Normally, Kyouraku would leave it to his lieutenant, but with her illness, he feels a bit guilty if he doesn't take care of it.

**-I am a line break, changing the scene-**

As it happens, all the paperwork of the Fifth Division is finished. Still, it's a believable and convenient excuse to avoid seeming rude to Kyouraku, so Aizen tosses the line out with his usual smile and gentle shake of the head. The irresponsible man accepts it and walks away, laziness clinging to his image but not touching the power radiating off of him.

Aizen Sosuke is a master of masks, both creating them and seeing through them. He sees beneath the flamboyant pretense Kyouraku constructs and understands that when you strip the flowery words and skirt-chasing away, a cold and very deadly person is left behind. The traitorous lieutenant wonders if, with more power and less need to make people like him, Kyouraku could have been his precursor. Even with his ambition to become God, Aizen recognizes the strength inherent in every Shinigami captain, from the showy Kyouraku to the mild Unohana,

Shinigami is the operative word there, of course. The hybrids are just that, hybrids. They are not Shinigami, but instead mere test subjects, experiments that happen to be able to don masks of normality. It's at once pathetic and humorous to see them attempt to conceal the change.

Aizen sees the shaking of his captain's hands, the crumpled forms in the corner when Shinji's knocked over another jar of ink onto them. He sees the minute widening of Shinji's eyes as an insidious voice whispers in his head and he knows why when the blond has to excuse himself from the room. It's laughable, really, even the devices designed by Urahara to contain residual Hollow reiatsu coming off of the Fifth Division's captain and later shunt it away for the mad scientist to dispose of it.

But it is beneath a god, even one who has not yet ascended to such a station, to laugh at mortals. Gods do not taunt and laugh at heretics. They smite and let the world tremble at their feet. Aizen knows this, and so he buries such ignoble impulses deep within his psyche, and lets the razor-sharp edges of Kyoka Suigetsu's broken mirrors shred them to bits.

Once his soul was a world of silvered glass, of mirrors and flowing waters and open nighttime sky. Kyoka Suigetsu took on a form resembling Aizen's own to speak to him, though the Zanpakuto spirit was clad in a kimono made of many mirrored scales and a silver mask with only the suggestion of features.

And the master of this beautiful, fragile world stood above it and smiled gently. Then he began to reshape it, to shatter every mirror and tear the crescent moon from the sky.

Now Aizen's inner world is a vast sea of clear water, the springs hanging in the sky unseen among the mist. An island lies in the middle of that sea, and on that island kneels a man, naked and scarred with only the remnants of a glimmering mask clinging to the lower right portion of his jaw. The fact that this man is identical to Aizen otherwise does not trouble him, and chains constructed of many shards of mirrors are shackled to each limb, connected to great pillars of the same material, towering high above. The glass that does not compose the chains, island, and pillars drifts through the water, carried by a gentle current.

Kyoka Suigetsu has been made to suffer agonizingly, to submit to Aizen's will utterly so that the deceptively mild man may gain power enough to stand at the top.

Aizen moves unseen through the streets of Seireitei, coming at last to a large building with a plaque next to it that reads: "Great Archives of the Pure White Court." An utterly pretentious name, and he simply refers to it as the library.

Entering, the glasses-wearing lieutenant has no need to search with his spirit sense, nor to ask for directions. He knows exactly where his chosen prey is.

A turn here, a walk down a staircase there, ducking between a pair of bookshelves and finally coming to his destination: the current location of Kojima Masaaki. Not the strongest, brightest, or most perceptive man- all three titles belong to Aizen-, but well-liked, respected, and certainly trusted. A useful tool.

Kojima's dark head jerks up as Aizen approaches, noticing him through sight only and unable to sense the spirit pressure that he is carefully masking.

"Ah, Lieutenant Aizen! I was aware that you frequented the stacks, but not that you had an interest in codes." Masaaki greets him, smiling.

Aizen returns the smile. "I might say the same for you, Kojima-kohai. I was simply on my way to another section when I noticed a spirit signature that I knew, and thought I might take your mind off this work with a simple greeting." He nods at the books. "Could I be of any assistance?"

"I wouldn't want to bother you, but as long as you're offering, two decoders are better than one." He glances around furtively. "I believe there are rebels in Seireitei, and this is correspondence between them. I also...no, that's crazy, and besides, he's beyond me in every sense of power."

The chessmaster of Seireitei allows himself a mental smile, crossing the distance between them to lean over and take a look at the letter. A cipher of moderate difficulty to him, but one that would be beyond challenging for anyone else, even Yoruichi. Which is why Aizen took care to write the steps for solving it in the margins of the book containing it, placed right where Masaaki could find it fairly easily.

"Rebels, Kojima-kohai? A dangerous suggestion, and one that could lead to painful consequences if you mentioned it to the wrong people." At the brief fear that flashes over the fourth seat's face, Aizen smiles reassuringly. "Not me, rest assured, but it is a warning to watch who you tell that to. They might...retaliate. But tell me, who do you speak of that is so beyond you in power? Only a captain, I'm sure. You could be a lieutenant if a position opened up." Making sure to hit a weak point and boost his ego at the same time, both good ways to ensure further trust.

"Well...Captain Aikawa. Recently I, ah, happened to be near the Seventh Division, and he was sparring with Kotsubaki-san. _Something_ happened, and Kotsubaki-san nearly lost an eye. It's okay now, of course, but Captain Aikawa didn't use his sword or Hakuda or any of the other Arts in a way that could've done that...and he lied about having scooped up a sharp rock by accident to Captain Unohana afterwards. I don't know what happened, but I have this nagging suspicion that Captain Aikawa is involved with this letter somehow." The olive-eyed fourth seat waves the letter a bit in front of himself.

Aizen forces- though truthfully, with him most outward expressions of emotion are forced- a frown of worry. "Aikawa-taicho? Truly? I heard of the incident, but I didn't realize..."

Masaaki sighs. "It sounds insane, huh?" He asks.

"No, not insane. I've had my suspicions about him and two of the other captains for quite some time now. Sometimes those from the Rukongai adjust well," he motions towards himself, "and sometimes they don't. I could imagine that a few might be disgruntled at seeing the comparative peace and wealth of Seireitei compare to some districts of the Rukongai."

And so the foundations for the castle of suspicions and falsehoods that he will build up around Kojima begins. Now to see if he sets the last foundation himself.

"Yes, I think that's so. My wife...she was killed by rebels in an uprising. We married young, you see, thought we had the future ahead of us, and then some souls no better than Hollows tried to start a revolution and slaughtered everyone who stood against their senseless violence. My wife, Keiko, she hated fighting, always tried to keep the peace." Masaaki stands, shoving back his chair. "Lieutenant Aizen, I know it's out of the blue, but I need to keep the peace for her and I can't do it alone. Will you help me?"

Aizen pretends to be flustered and taken aback for a second before resolving his expression into one of calm determination. "Yes, of course. If it means honoring the wishes of your wife and preserving Seireitei, I will do whatever must be done to root out the rebels."

They talk for a while after that, decoding a few more lines at a frustratingly slow pace, and finally part ways.

And so the rebel vows to help eliminate the enforcers of justice...

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_So, for those who don't know, -kohai is the opposite of -sempai, often meaning underclassman but occasionally referring to someone who is the speaker's junior at a company or organization. Also, the way I use gratuitous Japanese with the whole "taicho" and "fukutaicho" thing is intentionally mixed with regular uses of "captain" and "lieutenant" because to me they can convey different nuances. The way Aizen refers to Shinji as "Hirako-taicho" makes me think (I prefer subbed anime) of the Turn Back the Pendulum (favorite arc!) scene in which he thanks Shinji for one thing or another and always refers to him as such. The inflection and tone he uses sends chills up my spine and I couldn't help but keep that. Those who refer to captains as "Familyname-taicho" or "Familyname-fukutaicho" tend to be expressing less respect for the person in question, using the title in place of an honorific because it's conventionally polite. Not in canon or anything else I've seen/read, but simply in this work as my own means of distinction. One more relevant detail to add: you may or may not have forgotten that everyone's favorite chivalrous pervert is technically a noble. At least, I'm pretty sure he is. So that's why Aizen 'remembers' that Kyouraku's a noble and gives him an apologetic glance for his less-than-perfectly-respectful tone towards them._

_Off-topic, you had better be happy that I updated this soon! I'm neglecting my other, longer-running fic for this, and it's approaching two in the morning as I write!_


	10. A Mask Watching Other Masks

_I got about 500 words through the first version of this chapter before deciding I couldn't write from the character's perspective for that long and scrapped it. Hope this is a wee bit better._

**-I am a line break, beginning the story-**

It is _such _a pain training as a division when the lieutenant and captain of the division are too sick half the time to be there, Shibata Kasumi reflects. It really shouldn't fall to the fifth seat to be directing things.

Not her problem, though. Besides, it's more of a pain to deal with the Eleventh Division shouting insults at her. They just can't get it through their thick skulls that having a non-melee-type Zanpakuto doesn't make you weak, which is why they keep challenging her and losing badly. She doesn't let herself think that maybe it was a bad idea to reveal the nature of her sword by walking into the most crowded training hall and thrashing a bunch of them before announcing her transfer to the Ninth Division.

Kasumi grumbles as she adjusts the bandages covering a good part of her torso. These things can get very itchy, but they're very handy if you get in fights as much as she does.

"Hey, punk! You're supposed to be sparring, not fiddling with your clothes!" A male voice bellows from just behind her. Captain Muguruma, for once.

Kasumi whirls to find that he's practically bent double trying to glare directly into her eyes. She isn't sure if being short is a perk- you don't get to see such an intimidating man looking so ridiculous very often- or not, since pretty much everyone refuses to take her seriously unless she's belligerent. The tiny Shinigami hasn't been anything close to peaceful for a while, so that works out.

"And yer supposed to be restin'!" Kasumi howls back. "Aren't ya?!" She gives her best approximation of Kensei's death glare to the white-haired man.

Which, as it turns out, is not a match for the real thing, as he looks largely unmoved apart from taking a step or two back. If the movements were unusually stiff and measured, she pretends not to notice. "Don't be insubordinate! Get back to training and stop bothering me!" The tall man yells back.

Kasumi doesn't feel like arguing, so she grumbles and turns around to face her opponent, a dark-skinned man named Tosen Kaname. He's the fifth seat of the division, but there's talk of making him fourth seat because a mission a few months back killed the third and fourth seats. Personally, the belligerent Shinigami finds the man so reluctant to fight that she thinks she'd make a better choice than him.

The two Shinigami study each other for a few seconds, taking fighting stances silently. Then the two draw their Zanpakuto, Tosen doing so before his opponent, and release their swords.

"Cry, Cricket." The fifth seat intones firmly.

"Burn away all falsehoods, Heart of the Stars!" Kasumi calls, _wakizashi _transforming into two bladed war fans, gilded gold flashing brightly as blue fire runs down their lengths.

A high-pitched tone sings out from Tosen's Zanpakuto, sending her reeling. The momentary opening is enough for the blind man to dart in, sword moving to make a light incision across her chest.

The target he's chosen is a particularly bad choice, though, instincts bringing her fans swinging up to shove his blade away with a speed that only desperation brings.

"_Tennin_'s Assault!" Kasumi yowls, slashing in an X pattern at Tosen's chest and snapping a side kick out at his stomach. Both fan strikes are dodged easily, and her reach isn't long enough for her kick to touch him.

The momentary confusion written over the fifth seat's face- named techniques have to do _something_- is erased as a blast of blue fire is projected at him, originating from a point just in front of the smaller Shinigami's foot.

_Maybe the Second Division has something there with surprise, _Kasumi thinks as she lunges forward through the ensuing smoke to press her advantage.

Of course, no one who actually knows her would be surprised by such an attack, and Tosen's ready to counter her, katana stopping the downwards swing of her fans.

"I believe you earned first blood. As such, this round of sparring comes to an end." He says distastefully.

Before Kasumi can try to go on- Tosen's actually an interesting foe for once-, she spots Captain Muguruma, white as paper, just about to collapse and steadying himself on the wall across the courtyard. Any further belligerence evaporates in favor of helping him, and the short Shinigami makes a flying leap over Tosen, using her very limited knowledge of flash-step to evade the sparring Shinigami as she dashes across the courtyard.

"Captain Muguruma!" Kasumi hisses urgently, trying not to draw attention in case it turns out he's fine. "Are you-"

"I should've stayed back there? You don't run my life, Hollow bastard. Get out." Kensei grunts, teeth gritted. Suddenly he notices her presence, eyes narrowing. "Don't go trying to play Fourth Division with me, punk. I'll ki- be fine. I'm heading back to division headquarters." A strange sort of shuddering growl invades the end of his words, and the Ninth Division's captain hacks a few times. "Go back to whatever you were doing."

Kensei straightens, walking with short, painful steps out of the courtyard. Kasumi doesn't notice the way he's gripping his Zanpakuto's hilt with white knuckles, caught up in scowling and muttering about ungrateful snowy-haired idiots.

She turns and starts back towards Tosen. Round one's over, huh? Time for round two to start...

**-I am a line break, ending the story-**

_I may have dropped a few hints about Kasumi and her identity in other chapters and pointed to them with this one. Just maybe. Sorry for the short chapter length, too. Review anyway?_


	11. Analyzing the Masks

_We're back! Picked my younger brother's brain for some ideas and got a couple good ones, so here we go!_

* * *

_How... interesting, _Kurotsuchi Mayuri thinks as he looks up from his work to find someone unexpected standing there: Kojima Masaaki, who doesn't even like to associate with the Onmitsukido. _99.83% chance that he wants something from me. Something unorthodox, if he isn't going to Urahara. Or perhaps he's simply recognized my superior talent to that lazy idiot._

"What is it?" He asks in irritation. There are still experiments to be done, procedures to follow, new information to uncover, even if he is somewhat pleased that someone would seek him out.

"Kurotsuchi-san, if we might speak privately? Perhaps away from the Twelfth Division headquarters?" The olive eyes that dare to meet Kurotsuchi's golden ones are serious. Based on the man's proven character– pathetically trusting and weak, that is– and his expression now, it isn't anything that could hurt Kurotsuchi or his research or illegal. Not blatantly illegal, anyways, which is all that really matters to the third seat.

"Hmmph. Can't it wait? I've got my own work to do. Important, complex studies that would go above your head if I attempted to explain even the basics." The oddly made-up man sniffs.

"It could, but it's time-sensitive and would be adversely affected by the further passage of time." Masaaki answers.

"So you do have a vocabulary beyond a child's." Mayuri comments. "Very well. I suppose I can pull myself away for a time to listen to your petty interests." Inwardly, a sense of curiosity is growing in the bizarre Shinigami's mind. What could possibly be the concern of a man like this that would be so urgent and secretive?

The two leave the lab, with Kurotsuchi designating his tasks to his subordinates before doing so. Together they enter the library of all places, heading deep into the stacks where hardly anyone goes. Today, there's nothing around them but books and the quiet whisper of cool air.

"Now, explain to me what it is. Don't bother leaving out information if you feel you must protect someone; it never works in the end. As if you would be involved in such a thing." The blue-haired man snaps as soon as they've stopped walking.

Masaaki sighs gustily, visibly distressed and hesitant. "I-I need you to find a way to establish surveillance on a couple of the captains. Maybe tying whatever technology you're able to come up with to their specific _reiatsu _signatures. Audio is the priority, but video is also an important feature."

Kurotsuchi doesn't bother to hide his complete shock. The devices he's built into his brain to analyze surface appearances and make it that much harder for someone to fool him with a disguise register this man as Kojima Masaaki, but there's no way the mild-mannered fourth seat would ever propose such a thing. No way would he ever invade privacy in such a manner, or eavesdrop on their conversations. It's simply impossible. Urahara's third seat immediately sets a mental program running to analyze the other man's physical symptoms and behavior to make sure that nothing, particularly illness, is making him act this way.

Thankfully for Mayuri's reputation, he's able to do all this in the space of a few seconds and reply quickly without making himself look like a fool, mouth open like a fish's. "What psychosis makes you think I'm willing to do that?" He leaves out the part about what on earth possesses the black-haired Shinigami to think that he's even able. Kurotsuchi's ego is too great to consider any task impossible for him.

Masaaki knows this, and exploits it. "If you're unable, I'm sure I could go to Captain Urahara." Unbeknownst to Mayuri, though he realizes instantly that if Kojima had been able to go to the blond he would've, Masaaki wouldn't have done so anyway. Aizen's already planted the seeds of suspicion in the older man's thoughts.

"Preposterous. Nothing is impossible for a man of science such as myself." Kurotsuchi replies hurriedly. "That feckless idiot is far too incompetent to develop such a technology. Tell me first why you'd ever consider this. I abhor working without a purpose."

The green-eyed Shinigami shakes his head. "I can't explain that. Isn't it enough to know that you can use the chance to analyze the captains of the Gotei 13 and discover what they'd like to hide? Learning for the sake of learning." Masaaki says evasively, looking uncomfortable and guarded suddenly as he gives up trying to meet the mad scientist's eyes.

"How... scientific of you." Mayuri comments, eyes narrowing but otherwise unfazed. "Very well. It's not of my concern as long as you recognize the value of knowledge, obtained through any means. Specific captains?"

Kojima blinks, as if just realizing something. "Wait– can you do this with lieutenants as well, including the Kido Corps? It occurred to me that the most suspicious captains are closely connected to other captains and some lieutenants. And they're all ill, too, which Ai– which I've theorized is a pretense and distraction to deflect suspicion for other actions. I think you'd be able to keep an eye on Lieutenant Sarugaki and Captain Kyouraku is perceptive and wise enough to monitor Lieutenant Yadomaru, but I don't know enough about the Kido Corps to say that Tsukabishi-san could or would do the same with Hachigen-san."

"That would be significantly easier." Kurotsuchi responds. "I don't feel a need to question your suspicion of the invalids; it's no concern of mine and no interest to me. Now answer my question. Which captains– and lieutenants, I suppose– are you looking into?" He asks impatiently.

"Captains Muguruma, Hirako, Otoribashi, and Aikawa, as well as the Kido Chief and his second-in-command. If you wouldn't mind keeping close tabs on Captain Urahara and Lieutenant Sarugaki, and perhaps keeping an eye out for Lieutenant Yadomaru, that would be excellent." Masaaki answers.

"And you assume that I can't do such for that monkey brat and our fool of a captain?" Kurotsuchi demands angrily.

"I don't assume that you can't." Masaaki says quickly. "I do, however, know that Captain Urahara single-handedly began the Bureau and raised the level of technology in Soul Society exponentially. He of all people is skilled enough to have plans to deal with such things. It's too much risk, and I'd think that you're sharp and observant enough to pick up on any suspicious behavior."

Mayuri has to concede that. "Hmmph. True enough. My senses are more acute than any other Shinigami, even that buffoon Urahara. I'll begin as soon as possible." The yellow-eyed man turns on his heel to leave.

"Wait! You aren't asking for me to compensate you somehow?" The fourth seat asks confusedly.

Kurotsuchi glances over his shoulder, stopping. "Compensation? Don't be absurd, you dolt. Such knowledge and the prospect of expanding the realm of science is its own reward." The ex-criminal snaps. "I've no need for whatever petty things you could offer me. Good day." With that, he vanishes in a burst of flash-step to get to work.

And for once, the positively gleeful mad scientist means it.

* * *

**Two and a half weeks later**

Kurotsuchi stares, dumbfounded, at his equipment. It's been the challenge of his life to conceal his work from Urahara, but it's been fascinating. Now, though, it's baffling and deeply disturbing. The latter quality isn't because of what he's found– anybody else would feel that way, not Kurotsuchi– but instead because he can't believe that his own brilliant inventions could be wrong.

Yet they have to be wrong. It's impossible that the individuals Kojima mentioned could register as Hollows. No, not quite as Hollows, but instead as if they have two separate _reiatsu _signatures. Not just signatures, but two separate bodies of power coming from each person. One is standard Shinigami, but the other, vastly stronger one is unmistakably that of a Hollow, bleeding into the former and, something decidedly unscientific tells him, slowly overwhelming it.

But that's what his test results say, over and over again. So slowly the scientist begins to become awed as he realizes what this means: an entirely new class of being, extremely volatile and dangerous, possibly with previously unheard-of abilities and an entirely different morality and set of thought patterns. There's a strong chance that they're a tremendous danger to Soul Society and everyone around them, but all Kurotsuchi can see is the potential for new discovery. He'll get to work keying the surveillance devices to their _reiatsu _immediately. There really isn't any time to waste, with the laws of soul biology being rewritten and science being remade with every passing second.

Mayuri'll step up his observations of Urahara and Tessai, too. This has their name written all over it. No one but Urahara could be responsible for this, but it would take a joining of Kido and technology to accomplish the task in the first place.

And of course, he'll notify Kojima Masaaki soon. Kurotsuchi Mayuri is a slippery, maniacal freak, but he's a slippery, maniacal freak that keeps his end of the bargain. The one responsible for his investigation deserves the results as well.

* * *

_Ta da! Who says that brainstorming's an unproductive waste of time in writing? Me, actually, but in this case thinking out loud to someone was quite helpful._


	12. Weakening Masks

**_Please, I'm begging you, give me your ideas for Aizen's plot. Please help me with the eventual reveal scene. Please give me ideas as to the pacing._**

_I just had to find out what happens in the next chapter, so I updated quickly. Yes, find out– I'm well-known in real life for being very good at bluffing my way through things and winging it without a plan, which translates into not planning stories in the slightest. Anyone who reads my other fics will notice that, but that's kinda irrelevant._

_At this point, it's been around four months and two days (I did a little bit of thinking and got it to around three months, three weeks, and four days, which is close enough, and there's been a bit of time since Kurotsuchi's discovery and this chapter) since the Visored's Hollowfication. They have yet to form a true group identity, lacking the need for it at this point, being caught between being part of the Gotei 13 and the increasing need/desire for withdrawal. _

* * *

Hirako Shinji is dying. They all are. It's a simple truth that they cannot escape anymore. He watches the people around him going about their ordinary lives, lives that they can never have, with a bitter, falsely casual gaze. They never think about how much time's left because they don't know anyone whose days are numbered, because their days aren't numbered and for all they care they have forever.

Funny, that's exactly what he thought until every god turned their backs on him and his friends.

The blond hasn't slept in so long. All he can do is try to meditate– not in the Jinzen pose, he isn't flexible enough anymore– and take very, very short catnaps while another hybrid's with him to wake him up after a few minutes.

Maybe Aizen didn't kill or report them not because he wanted to study them, as the current theory goes, but instead because he wanted to put the hybrids through a living hell and see how long it took for them to crack and become demons. It'll be soon, so soon, Shinji knows it, he can feel his mind and body shattering and it takes more energy than he has, than he can afford to expend to keep the pieces together.

Consciousness is a tremendous effort itself. He spends far too much time in a waking dream, going through his life like a robot than can only smile a rictus. The Hollow presents him with images of Soul Society up in flames, of Aizen dead among hundreds of other mangled corpses, of his friends tortured and twisted into beasts. _Don't you see what I could make you into? _It asks constantly. _Don't you see that I could make your pathetic little freaky body perfect? _

And it never loses its polite tone, no matter how razor-edged the words are or how hissing and insidious its voice is. Shinji can see it sometimes, a pale version of himself. Not exactly pale, but the Hollow looks as if all its color has been bleached and burned away until there's only ashen-white, so harsh it hurts. It dresses exactly the same, _shihakusho _and _haori _inverted along with Sakanade, who hasn't appeared since the Hollowfication. The only parts of the monster in his head that aren't starkly pale are its _haori _and eyes. The latter are disgusting, moon-pale and moon-cold irises floating in seas of black with cat-like pupils. Ugly, hieroglyphic-like scars adorn its visible skin. It walks on its toes like a wild animal, but there are no claws to tip the digits as Love has mentioned with his own personal demon.

The blond is rightly terrified, though not for himself, never for himself. For himself, Shinji can only feel faintly despairing and resigned, too sick and weak and tired and hungry, always hungry, to feel much of anything. No, the Fifth Division's captain fears for others because the thing inside him can only be held back for so long, and when it breaks loose it will slaughter them and devastate the world Shinji loves and lives to protect.

Damn it all. He needs more time, so much more time. He has to hang on for a little longer, just a little longer and a little longer after that. Urahara will find a cure, he has to find one. Why can't he have more time? He knows a captain's job is to shoulder burdens for his men, knows no one else could stand up to this and the agony of the whole thing, but Shinji would do anything now to become Shinigami again. The blond's come to the terrible realization that if that meant passing his curse on to someone else, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Lying in his room, where no one will disturb him, Shinji's muscles burn faintly, weakly as he raises a pillow to his mouth and presses it there, releasing a shuddering scream that distorts halfway through into the raw shriek of a Hollow. The brief jolt of strength that panic returns to his body lets him shove the pillow away and clap his hand over his mouth, throat burning as if he's been screeching for hours with a cold.

"No..." The blond whispers raggedly. "Let the chaos wait a little longer. I need more time." He lies there for a few minutes, running through calculations like he learned in the Shin'o Academy to keep his mind functioning as he gathers willpower. "You know you'll get to kill them later, just give me this life for now, Hollow bastard."

Shinji's thought process is numbed beneath a deluge of his Hollow's taunts and threats. When the Fifth Squad Captain's vision clears and his body stops being quite so cold and clammy, he finds himself lying on the ground among a bed reduced into torn sheets and kindling.

Shinji stares at it, knowing that this act of simple destruction represents his single greatest fear: losing control.

Hirako Shinji has always been in control; it's his default state. Lady Luck always favored him, and coupled with his naturally strong spirit power and cunning eloquence, the blond has never been anything but the master of his own destiny. He had never met anyone he could not manipulate until he became a captain and had the chance to really meet his colleagues. Even there, he had an edge and was able to become well-respected very quickly for his strong leadership and ability to command a situation, whether in combat or not.

Then he met Aizen, and Shinji thought he had that under control as well. So it was only around Urahara that he ever felt as if he'd given up mastery of the world around him, and Urahara has a deep need to make others like him, so it was far less uncomfortable and obvious than it could have been.

These past few months have been the only time he has ever been out of control. It's been a slow process, his death grip on everything slipping centimeter by centimeter. Now Shinji's dangling over the edge of a cliff, and one of his fingers has just slipped off completely. It absolutely terrifies the blond down to his core, sending waves of ice through him that are only weak because he's already so cold.

A soft knock comes on the door, and his eyes crack open until they're brown slits, wavering with the effort necessary to keep them open. A tired surge of fury tears through his heart, because only one person knocks like that.

"C'mon in, Aizen." He calls, tempering his voice as much as possible to keep it normal, to keep it intelligible and human.

Shinji's lieutenant enters, smiling slightly and bowing. His eyes widen at the sight of the bed with its broken headboard and torn sheets. "Hirako-taicho, please forgive me for interrupting you. I'm happy that you're awake." Aizen fishes around in his _shihakusho _and retrieves a folder of papers. "I've managed to fend off Captain Unohana for you so far, but less so with paperwork. The Fourth Division is working on forming groups for the betterment of the Rukongai and they hoped that you and I would be able to contribute our own experiences, particularly as we command the division that spends the most time working outside Seireitei besides the Fourth." The mild-mannered lieutenant places the folder on Shinji's low desk, carved with a domino pattern.

"Yeah, I think that wouldn't be out of the question." Shinji says, tongue thick and dry in his mouth. He hacks a few times before continuing. "Say, Aizen, couldja get a Fourthie in here to fix this headboard and bring new sheets? I was sleepin' earlier"– complete and utter lies– "and musta been thrashin' around, 'cause I woke up with everythin' like this." With effort, he hauls himself into a sitting position, golden hair fanning out around him.

"Yes, of course, Hirako-taicho." Aizen answers. "Oh! Do you wish me to bring those papers to you so you don't need to get up? I was thoughtless and put them on your desk as usual." He starts towards the desk.

"Sure. Can ya grab a– Oh, thanks." The brunet has thought to bring a book to write on in addition to ink and a brush with the papers.

"Well then, I'll leave these to you. I wish you well on your recovery. There is also an upcoming captains' meeting of high priority, I believe." Aizen adds this almost as an afterthought. "If you're unable to attend, the Captain-Commander has given me permission to attend in your place and report back afterwards. It is to be on the activities of Hueco Mundo and the proper actions to take."

Shinji gives him a grimace that only a Hollow could mistake for his usual grin. No way will he let that traitorous psychopath stand among captains as long he can help it. "I'll heal up by then, no worries. Scurry off."

Aizen slides open the door and backs out, sliding it shut behind him immediately. Shinji's far too drained from the encounter to feel any annoyance at the false deference his lieutenant shows. Besides, when he's constantly wearing a mask, who's he to complain about the other man doing the same?

He's a desperate, dying wretch, that's who, one that wears a mask of his real self instead of hiding his true colors.


	13. Powerless to Mend the Masks

_I freely confess to loving angst, particularly Visored angst. Though in this case I've given them good reason for it. Hence why I've updated so insanely often. I'm considering writing alternate endings: one good, one canon-like, one just plain different, and one very bad._

* * *

**Three days later**

Unohana Retsu prides herself on her knowledge of the healing arts. She almost single-handedly brought the techniques to the point they are today, working tirelessly to mend broken bones and calm raging infections. There are still illnesses she cannot cure, still wounds that the Fourth Division's long-standing captain cannot heal. But there will always be such things, and Unohana must keep striving to do better and heal what she can.

Her extensive mastery of healing Kido is exactly why the black-braided woman is utterly confused by the illness of eight of her coworkers. Their symptoms don't match up with any disease she knows of, and the medicines she's had her division members slip into their food didn't work. Now that Unohana suspects that despite what they say, they really can't keep any food down, she can't do that, but still. The fact that she can tell that they're trying to downplay and cover up their symptoms is even more bizarre, coupled with their strong avoidance of the Fourth Division.

No one disobeys Unohana Retsu. It simply isn't done, just like wearing carp streamers on the feet instead of shoes isn't done. But that's exactly what the eight are doing. Where they get that audacity is utterly beyond her.

The Fourth Division's captain sits at her desk in her office, writing an outline of the visible symptoms for the millionth time in the hope that something will jump out to her this time and she'll magically find the answer. It's the only thing she _can _do, all other options having been exhausted. All other legal and socially acceptable options, anyway.

Vomiting, severe weight loss, coughing, hand tremors, stiffness and limited range of motion, and overall weakness. It could match to several other illnesses, but none of the other symptoms of those diseases are present and the secret medication she slipped in for those illnesses didn't make a dent. None of this makes sense, and the black-braided woman frowns slightly at the paper, which shreds itself into many pieces with the tiniest exertion of her spirit power on it.

It could be a new illness, she realizes with a bit of horror. One previously unknown, maybe even a sickness of the soul itself. Hollows have a wide range of abilities, and it is possible that one could have the power to induce illness. But no, that doesn't make much sense, because Unohana knows how to flush Hollow _reiatsu_ out of wounds to keep from such infections. In any event, her powers would be more than enough to break down any resistance of its power.

Speaking of Hollow _reiatsu_, there was very, very faint traces of it in Kotsubaki Jin'emon's nasty wound a short while back. Traces that spoke of very high power levels, like the strong tastes or smells of spices even in small amounts. That was a complete enigma, one she hasn't been able to puzzle out and hasn't had the time to with the number of people being hurt by increased Hollow incursions.

For once, Unohana Retsu is completely powerless in a matter of medicine. She can't help them because she doesn't know what disease they have, and she doesn't know what disease the eight have because they're refusing treatment and undoubtedly concealing other symptoms. Even in her days as the first Kenpachi, no wound was beyond her power to fix. The black-braided captain knows her sword well, and it was almost child's play to mend the tears of flesh and shattered bones that Minazuki caused. This isn't familiar, it isn't normal, it isn't natural. It simply isn't right for the Fourth Division's captain not to know about an aspect of medicine.

Unohana rises from her kneeling position at her desk and makes her way through her division, offering words of encouragement and helpful critique as she goes, steadying a hand here and reminding a Shinigami of the proper procedure there. When she leaves, the former Kenpachi is no less deeply troubled.

A god of death with power over the workings of life should not have to stand by helpless as her allies are dying.

* * *

_Well, Leviathan, you got your wish! It was such a good idea that I couldn't help using it!_


	14. Cracks Beginning in the Masks

_Whenever I'm writing Shinji, I can never manage to picture Shinji himself doing what I'm writing. Instead, I get the image of one of my OCs– none of whom act anything like him. Bizarre, I know. But hey, whatever works._

* * *

**Two days later**

Kensei staggers– it's a tightly controlled stagger, but still– out of the Ninth Division for the first time in a little over a week. And it's been a hell of a week, in the sense of both significance and torture. Every symptom's intensified times a thousand, and the only reason he could get out of bed this morning was because Yoruichi 'acquired' some pain medicine from the Fourth Division and his raw determination to keep going, to push through this and not let Tosen win. Aizen's a secondary concern, considering that Kensei was what he'd prefer to think of as unconscious when Aizen and Gin showed up.

Mashiro trails behind the white-haired man, somewhat more limber and energetic than he is for whatever reason. It doesn't matter to Kensei. There isn't much that matters to him anymore. He's too tired, too focused on keeping up his flimsy mask of normality and sanity to care.

"Keenseiii!" Mashiro murmurs in that drawn-out way she always does, sounding as if it takes an act of God to give her the strength to reach that volume.

"Whaa?" He rasps. "Need somethin'?"

"You didn't respond earlier when I asked if I had to be at the meeting." She answers. "Aizen isn't–"

"Y'aren't Aizen." Kensei slurs the two words together. "And he's got loads of paperwork to do to make up for Sh– Gaah, get out!" He stops in his tracks, clutching his face with one hand. "I just..." The Ninth Division's captain doesn't finish the sentence, gasping in pain and subsequently gritting his teeth to keep more such noises from escaping. A few minutes pass by before he resumes making progress towards the First Division. Kensei's fingertips and face are stained with spots of blood from picking off the bits of mask trying to form.

* * *

Ukitake is outright astounded to see Kensei and Mashiro enter and take their places. He hasn't seen either one in a week, and assumed neither one would be attending. The occasionally invalid captain can't resist sneaking a glance at his recently appointed lieutenant, Shiba Kaien. The black-haired man looks equally stunned, but unlike his captain, he doesn't try to hide it.

It's almost agonizing to see the slowness with which the two move, but they make it. Ukitake comes to the sudden realization that they probably left early specifically because of this. His heart twists, knowing that they must know full well their weakness.

Yamamoto stamps his cane, which is really closer to a club, on the floor. "I call this meeting of the captains and lieutenants to order." The same words he utters every time, though it might actually be a ceremony to make the meeting official. "Are there any orders of business that must be put forth before we discuss the issues surrounding Hueco Mundo?"

When no one suggests anything, the elderly but powerful Shinigami nods at the two men standing beside him. "Kido Chief Tsukabishi Tessai, Vice-Kido Chief Ushoda Hachigen."

Ukitake blinks at the sight of Hachi. Generally, the Kido Corps are very reclusive and aren't seen often even by Gotei 13 members. The last time the white-haired captain saw Tessai's subordinate, he was significantly more rotund, but it's clear now that the pink-haired man has lost a considerable amount of weight from his illness.

The imposing leader of the Kido Corps steps forwards, placing a small device on the ground and tapping it. Thin lines of light spring up from the device, solidifying into what looks like a void torn in reality, alongside smaller images of what Ukitake assumes is the breakdown of the spirit particles they've found and a creepy, vaguely humanoid but armless and legless creature with a white mask.

"This is one of the few images we have of a Garganta, captured before it closed. We theorize that it's a variation of normal Hollows' natural ability to travel between dimensions, altered to bring more powerful ones in, or groups. That itself is based off their ability to break down souls into spirit particles to strengthen them, in which they briefly project their own power into a nearby space and tear at it, thereby rending the space itself to create a portal." Tessai begins, pausing to clear his throat.

"Ahem. Excuse me. Now, this image here is of a type of Hollow that is rather rare, the Gillian." As the Kido Chief spoke, the masked creature's picture expands as the image of the Garganta shrinks. Must be voice-activated to some extent. "They're the lowest form of a class of Hollows that the Kido Corps has named the Menos Grande. The Gillian are composed of many, many souls, often Hollows', none of which have achieved dominance and a unique form yet. So far, only the Gillian have opened Garganta, but we believe that it is only a matter of time before the higher levels of Menos Grande, the Adjuchas and the Vasto Lorde, begin to do the same. Gillians' individual power levels could on average be matched by a mid-level seated officer, though they travel in groups and become significantly more difficult to defend against. Cero is their primary weapon, but their unique ability is Negacion."

"And that is what exactly?" Yoruichi asks. Tessai frowns severely at her.

"As I was about to explain, Shihoin-dono, Negacion is their ability to create barriers around areas and suck whatever is contained within back to Hueco Mundo. These barriers are borderline impenetrable, such that it would be a waste of _reiatsu _to attempt to destroy one, though it might succeed if the individual is captain-class and at full strength." Another picture comes to the forefront, showing a rectangular prism of yellow light enclosing two wounded Menos Grande and lifting them up to a Garganta, taking a sizable patch of land with it. "They primarily use it to rescue their own members. It is unknown what happens to the rescued Gillian, if they are eaten in their vulnerable state or allowed to heal in Hueco Mundo. If somehow controlled, though, this Negacion could be very useful."

"To whom would it be useful?" Kuchiki Ginrei asks, brows locked in a sharp frown of disapproval. "Consorting or working with Hollows is forbidden and punishable at least with imprisonment in the Maggots' Nest, if not death."

If Tessai turns a shade paler beneath his deep tan, no one notices. "I'm well aware, Kuchiki-dono. I am merely informing all of you of the potential for manipulation in the event that it comes up in the future. The knowledge may well be useful." He replies.

"Understood." Yamamoto rumbles, heading off any possible offense that the noble could take. "Please continue."

"Hollow incursions into both the world of the living and into Soul Society are also increasing. Even outside of Japan, where average spiritual density and pressure is increased greatly due to the Oken's current presence there, such invasions are becoming more common. Training of Academy students may have to be stepped up somewhat in order to prepare them for fighting better." The Kido Chief clasps his hands. "As of yet, the cause of the increase is unknown."

"Whaddya recommend for dealin' with 'em, Tsukabishi-san?" Shinji asks, words deliberate and almost labored.

"Increased patrols and the building of further defenses in the Rukongai seem to be the best option for now, until we are able to uncover the cause and eliminate it." Tessai replies after a brief hesitation.

Yamamoto inclines his head towards the tall Shinigami. "Thank you. Is that all the information you have at the moment?"

Tessai nods. "Yes, that's all of practical use that the Kido Corps has been able to learn."

"Then I ask that Captain Shihoin and Executive Militia member Sui Feng give their own assessment of the situation." The Captain-Commander says.

The two men bow slightly and retreat a few steps. The violet-haired commander of the Onmitsukido and her bodyguard take the floor, stepping out of the ranks slightly.

"The Hollows aren't an organized group. Even the Gillian that attack in groups don't seem to have any form of command, hierarchy, or even intent. They aren't sentient as far as we're able to tell. They pose a limited threat to the government and the nobles, but to minimize bloodshed, as they are quite a threat to the civilian population, we should work quickly to discover the reason behind the increase in attacks and make sure to eliminate them efficiently and without delay." Yoruichi states, expression serious. "An assessment of abilities shown by Hollows would be to our advantage to make sure that we are able to combat them effectively." The Second Division's captain nudges the woman beside her. She murmurs something quietly, which causes Sui Feng to blush slightly and bow to all of them.

"In addition, m-my and Shihoin-sama's subordinates have observed increased strength in the average Hollow. Th-the cause is theorized to be an increase in ambient energy in Hueco Mundo, b-but we aren't sure why it would increase." Sui Feng says, staring straight at the wall as if too nervous to do anything else. She hesitates for a few moments. "Also, though the incidents are very few and far between... we have observed beings that feel like Hollows, but have the appearance of humans with Hollow holes and Zanpakuto as well as broken masks. They have all demonstrated hostile tendencies towards Soul Society but appear to be largely unorganized and have no alliances that we know of."

The room becomes even more quiet, if that's possible. Ukitake fidgets a little bit. Then a question occurs to him, and in his desperation to break the silence, he asks it.

"If they take human-like appearances and have Zanpakuto, that would indicate a form not fully Hollow. I hesitate to ask, knowing that such a thing goes against our understanding of the beasts, but is it possible that they are partially Shinigami?" The Thirteenth Division's captain asks reluctantly.

Sui Feng blinks. "Yes, Captain Ukitake. We have no c-conclusive evidence as of yet, but during the encounters w-we have had with them, scouts have reported that their _reiatsu _feels very slightly like that of a Shinigami. The ratio o-of such ap-appears to be about 70:30 in favor of the Hollow power, and it increases to 90:10 when the swords are drawn. The proportion of Hollow t-to Shinigami changes depending on the i-individual, however."

"Hybrids..." Kyouraku murmurs, then chuckles softly. "Well, well, seems like our understanding of the world's getting flipped around. Interesting. What advantages does the Shinigami power afford them? I can't imagine that it's real comfortable to make that choice and transform, considering Hollows hate us. Gotta be some advantages, yeah?"

Sui Feng looks uncertain briefly, but the Chinese minor noble takes a deep breath and speaks anyway. "Their _reiatsu _is quite significantly increased, and it appears to grant rationality to th-them. They are capable of using Hollow powers only from what we have seen. Kido, Hakuda, and Zanjutsu have not been demonstrated. Though some do fight in hand-to-hand combat, it is not formally trained, and swordfighting appears to be largely instinctive or experience-based. The Arrancar– we call them such for their torn-off masks– have an ability approximating flash-step that allows them to roughly mimic Hoho, as well as extremely durable skin. If the hybrids were to have training or develop substitutes for the other Arts, they would be exponentially deadlier and able to combat us much more effectively. The Onmitsukido has uncovered no further information, Captain-Commander." She adds.

Yamamoto inclines his grizzled head to her. "You have our collective thanks, Captain Shihoin and Militia member Sui Feng." He looks back down the rows. "Does anyone else have further knowledge of the topics at hand?" The most powerful fire user in all Soul Society asks.

Even as he's speaking, the doors fly open and a man appears in a burst of flash-step, panting. "Begging your pardon, captains and captain-commander, but yes!" The olive-eyed Shinigami cries. He carries with him a box and a bag, the lumps of which suggest objects within the latter. "I apologize to all present for the interruption, but I have something you need to see. I've confirmed the existence of traitors within the command structure of Seireitei!"

* * *

_As it turns out, I got too far into the story and wrote too much of this to go with the suggested idea of having the Visored learn of a plot of Aizen's and try to thwart it, being outed as hybrids in the process, and discover that not only can they not stop whatever it is, that was his goal all along. So here, have a chapter._


	15. Author's Note!

Hey, just so you know, this isn't exactly a new chapter. But don't go yet! I need a beta reader for the next chapter. I've got two versions right now and I don't know which to decide on. The couple I've contacted haven't been able to do it... so maybe one of my faithful readers could put me in touch with someone? Or maybe one of you could beta!

– Stranger


	16. Masks Torn Away, Masks Healing

_Thanks so much to Akatsuki Leader13 (did I get that spelling right? I hope so) for beta-reading this chapter. Believe me, it was originally much worse. Without his (it was on his profile that I read he was male, right? Hope that's right too) advice and guidance, this would've been a sorry read indeed. Reviews appreciated!_

* * *

The assembled captains and lieutenants stare at him. Isshin speaks first.

"Uh... No offense Kojima-san, but why are you here? At a meeting of captains and lieutenants?" The Tenth Division's captain asks.

"Because, sir, the traitors aren't just in our ranks. They're in positions of authority as captains and lieutenants," Masaaki says breathlessly. "I needed to be sure that people who were equipped to do something about it knew and this was my best opportunity. May I present my findings, Captain-Commander?"

_'He knows our secret_,' Kensei realizes. There's no way he doesn't know, because only one of the real traitors is a lieutenant and Aizen isn't even here today. It wouldn't be too hard to claim that the victims are in fact the traitors just for being what the psychopathic lieutenant made them.

Yamamoto's eyes widen slightly in what's either surprise or outrage. With his stoicism, it's hard to tell. "You are recognized, Fourth Seat Kojima. Present."

The black-haired Shinigami places his box on the ground and opens it, taking out a clearly technological object with some parts missing. From the bag he produces those missing parts and carefully puts them in their proper places. As the device starts up, Masaaki retrieves a small sheaf of papers. The sight makes Urahara's eyes widen in the unique brand of shock and alarm that only betrayal can produce, while Kensei's eyes narrow in barely-restrained anger. Kojima's got evidence. Pretty hard to call him a rambling lunatic with that.

Kensei clenches his jaw as the Fourth Seat continues. "I'm ashamed to say that I went behind Captain Urahara's back and likely committed my own crimes in acquiring this data," The fourth seat explains. "I asked Third Seat Kurotsuchi if he could secretly make surveillance devices that could track a person by their reiatsu_. _As I wasn't convinced of his ability to covertly monitor his own captain and lieutenant, I asked him to observe them himself and decided that Captain Kyouraku was capable of keeping tabs on his own lieutenant." Does the universe hate him or something? Kojima–who he thought was a nice guy, but guess not–clearly knows about Urahara's involvement and at least suspects Hiyori and Lisa's nature.

Ukitake frowns disapprovingly. "Kojima-san, are you saying that you and Kurotsuchi-san have been spying on captains and lieutenants without their knowledge?" His voice is calm, but dangerously so, and the green-eyed Shinigami seems to recognize this and proceeds more cautiously.

"Not all of them, but yes. The Captain-Commander and his lieutenant, Captain Shihoin and her lieutenant, Captain Unohana and her lieutenant, Captain Kuchiki and his lieutenant, Captain Kyouraku and his lieutenant, Captain Shiba and Lieutenant Matsumoto, Captain Kenpachi and his lieutenant, and you yourself, Captain Ukitake, and your lieutenant were exempted for various reasons. In the case of the senior captains, they were either too risky to attempt to eavesdrop on or it was extremely unlikely that they would attempt to betray Soul Society," Kojima says warily.

That means he was spying on Kensei and Mashiro, Love and Jin'emon, Rose and Chikane, and Shinji– Aizen's orchestrated this, no doubt so he would make sure he wasn't under surveillance. Kensei doubts that it would even be possible to monitor Aizen with that backstabber's Zanpakuto.

It appears that Kyouraku's thinking along the same lines, because he asks,

"So you only had surveillance on... let's see, the Third, Fifth, Seventh, and Ninth? As well as having Kurotsuchi-san keep tabs on his own superiors?"

Masaaki's green eyes flick away. "Yes, Captain Kyouraku, sir. As well as Kido Chief Tsukabishi-san and Vice-Kido Chief Hachigen-san."

Great. He thought of watching the Kido Corps. If Kensei could clench his jaw any harder, he's sure his teeth would crack. Why can't they just call them a captain and lieutenant, anyway? Kensei's head is swimming from keeping track of all the titles and names, but he focuses hard on pulling a coherent sentence together anyway. "Y'were watchin' me and Mashiro? That's illegal. Doesn't that make it so y'can't use it in court?" While trying to make his speech clear, the white-haired man inadvertently slips back into the rougher speech patterns of his youth.

"This isn't court." Kojima snaps, suddenly looking agitated. "But I'm hardly surprised you want to try to get off on a technicality with all you have to hide."

Even with his already pale, sallow skin, the Ninth Division's captain blanches, but he hides it beneath a scowl after a few seconds. It's official: they're all screwed. "What's that supposed to mean? You got a problem with me or something, punk?"

The green-eyed Shinigami takes a deep breath. "I'm not saying I have a problem with you. I have a problem with what I've learned from Third Seat Kurotsuchi's devices, both video and audio, and wi-with what I learned from his analysis of your reiatsu_. _And the coded letter I discovered from you to Captain Urahara. Do you want me to read the transcripts I have here? Or the letter itself?" He pretends to pore over the sheaf of papers in his hand, raising them up for effect. "Of course, I've got the actual surveillance if you'd prefer to watch."

Kensei bites his lower lip hard, ignoring the pain in favor of shoving away his fury. The reiatsu analysis alone is a death sentence. Kojima doesn't need anything more than that if he really wants to convict them.

"Get on with it," Kenpachi grumbles. "We don't have all day."

Masaaki glances over at the Eleventh Division's captain with . "Simply giving Muguruma-taicho a chance to explain himself and save me the trouble, if he's able."

"Captain Muguruma. Before Fourth Seat Kojima feels the need to actually reveal the 'evidence' he's collected, which apparently is tied to you, it's considered more favorable by the Central 46 if the accused party admits guilt before such a thing," Yamamoto interrupts the younger man. "If that's in fact the case, the Gotei 13 will not look kindly upon it, but they will look more–"

"No," The accused captain growls, a touch of his Hollow's bestial tones infiltrating his voice. "I'm _not _a...a." Kensei stops the sentence abruptly, searching for the basic word that won't come to his lips as he scrabbles for more control over himself. "A rebel." _A monster._

Kojima's eyes narrow and he balls his hands into fists. "Then what _are _you?!" The green-eyed officer exclaims. "Why are you pretending to be sick while being strong enough to level half of Seireitei? Explain it!" A wave of panic rushes through Kensei, stamped down immediately amid the guttural laughing in his head.

**"See, this weakling acknowledges that I'm stronger. He doesn't even know the half of it and he still says it!" **The Hollow howls.

Kensei's fists clench, making popping sounds as they do so. "None of us are pretending, dumbass," He replies, focusing intently on Isshin's face. He's Shinigami just like Isshin. He can't screw up now with all of them watching. "Dun-dunno where you're get– Gaah," Kensei's face twists in pain, his eyes squeezing shut and jaw clenching tightly.

Despite his closed eyes, the white-haired captain sees a Kensei-shaped beast in front of him, hair roughly the red-brown of dried blood and eyes nearly the same color, suspended in black voids. Its posture is stooped from the bone rods in its back and arms, armored fists clenched as tightly as his own. The most disturbing part is its feet, which are skeletal and warped to support something closer to a digitigrade posture. Its mouth is open in a smile made more sickening by the Glasgow grin carved into its face.

**"You're pathetic, trying to fight the change. You think it'll all go back to normal if you can just stick it out one more day and you can have a future among these milk-drinking mice! It won't! For a little punk who prides himself on not caring what others think, you're pretty damn determined to make sure they don't reject you!"**

_'Shut up, you ugly son of a bitch,' _Kensei shoots back hotly. '_What I care about is being me, not you.'_

He reopens his eyes, smoothing his expression with effort. Yoruichi shoots a concerned glance at him before turning back to glare at Kojima.

"Shut up and calm down until you make a shred of sense," The Shihoin princess orders him coldly. "There's no way Kensei or Shinji or anyone who's sick right now is pretending. And I don't think he could beat a first-year Academy student if he tried."

"I'm almost offended." The Fifth Division's captain mumbles. The purple-haired assassin rounds on him. "Shuttin' up now." Leave it to Shinji to be a smart-ass in the middle of a serious situation.

The fourth seat looks positively livid as he punches a small button on the remote in his hand and toggles extremely quickly between whatever's displayed on the small screen of the remote before hitting another button.

The device he set up begins to whine, then two antenna-like objects pop up from the top, a screen of light jumping into existence between them. To the surprise of all involved, the image of Hirako Shinji in his room appears, clearly showing him lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. That wouldn't be remarkable if not for the fact that one eye looks very different from the other. Half of the Fifth Division's captain's right eye has black where the white should be, and pale silver where there should be brown. His pupils look as if they're warping, vacillating between nearly-slit ones and round ones. Exactly how Shinji described his inner Hollow's eyes.

A torrent of curses flood Kensei's brain, the kind that would make your ears blister if you heard them, not for the words themselves but for the force and tone.

All eyes turn to Shinji, who for his part has gone a few shades paler and is staring incredulously at the footage. The Shinji on the screen speaks.

_"No... Let the chaos wait a little longer. I need more time."_ A few moments pass before he continues. _"Ya know you'll get to kill 'em later, just give me this life for now, Hollow bastard."_

The next event shown is positively terrifying. White liquid spurts from the Fifth Division's captain's eyes and mouth, spilling out to form a half-mask that bears a resemblance to an Egyptian pharaoh, but is unmistakably a partial Hollow mask. The assembled captains see, watching with growing horror, that both eyes, widened in obvious pain, have become cat-like and assumed the silver-black color scheme. Shinji's body convulses, muscles and bones beneath the skin visibly shifting before resolving into a configuration that just barely looks inhuman. The creature that the blond's become jerks into a sitting position, lashing out and thrashing at his surroundings, sheets audibly ripping and shattering the headboard with a single blow before collapsing again. The half-mask dissolves into _reishi, _leaving small patches of blood on Shinji's face, eyes melting back to brown and white.

Kensei knows that transformation well. He remembers lying on the ground panicking and convulsing as his mask formed, seeing his eyes reflected in his blade on the ground and watching helplessly as the irises became dark red, the sclera turning an appropriate shadow-black. The first of the hybrids realizes belatedly that there are still spots of blood on his own face and has a faint spot of futile hope that no one will make that connection.

Silence reigns as Shinji gapes like a fish at the projection. It's unlikely that he's dumbfounded exactly– Shinji's never dumbfounded– but all the hybrids have difficulty with putting a complete, intelligible sentence together. The deluge of thoughts and feelings that don't belong to them is confusing enough and when added to the growing disconnect between their bodies and minds and the active mental warfare being waged upon them, it's a wonder that they can speak at all.

Somehow it manages to get worse. Before the blond's eyes change back, a voice that sends chills down Kensei's spine comes from the projected captain's mouth, hissing and scratchy. _"Dammit. I'll have you in a few days' time, King. Then they die. Or rather, you'll kill them."_

"Hirako Shinji." Yamamoto's voice is dangerously serious, making no attempt to hide its threatening sound or disguise the fact that the Fifth Division's captain's response is something to be very carefully considered. "Considering what Sui Feng has just told us all about Arrancar, I suggest that you offer a very complete account of the Arrancar forces and organization if you want the Central 46 to offer a punishment that is not execution by Sogyoku."

More silence reigns, so deafening it sends icy knives of nervousness stabbing through Kensei's senses, before Shinji finally answers. "I don't _have _one. Today's the first time I've ever heard of Arrancar or anything matching that description."

"Denial of information's a b-bad idea and an af-affront to Shihoin-sama's deductive abilities," Sui Feng blurts out.

Yoruichi rubs the nape of her neck, a faintly unsettled expression crossing her face. "About that... he's actually not lying."

The assembled captains and lieutenants blink at her, turning to face the golden-eyed woman with unspoken questions hanging in the air. "You know this how?" Kyouraku asks.

"You're questioning the leader of the Onmitsukido, Kyouraku. Rethink that one," She retorts.

"Sorry, Captain Shihoin, but you've got to be wrong this time," Masaaki says. "This freak's got a much weaker Shinigami reiatsu covering up for powerful Hollow reiatsu_, _" His voice turns bitter. "It's the perfect set-up to infiltrate the Gotei 13 and pretend to be a Shinigami. And pretending to be invalid is a great way to make no one think twice about odd behavior and get them to not look too hard so you can organize a rebellion to overthrow the Shinigami government. Didn't think that anyone could bring that facade crashing down, did you? Filthy rebels, you disgust me." He spits. "Not even human. You're monsters that wear a human mask. Trai– Aack!"

Kensei doesn't even consider doing it. He doesn't consciously make the decision. The white-haired captain's having a hard enough time just following the conversation. As soon as the fourth seat starts to say the word 'traitor', though, he _moves _like he hasn't in a long time. In less than a second, Kensei has Tachikaze drawn and held to the other man's throat, a burst of sudden strength giving him the ability to trap Masaaki.

"You can say damn near _anything _about me. You can call me a freak, or say I'm only pretending to be Shinigami and sick and call me deceptive. You can call me a filthy rebel and say I'm not even human and that I'm a monster wearing a human mask and I don't _care. _I stopped caring four and a half months ago. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. I don't even know anymore. Start calling me and my friends traitors and that's where I draw the line. You just crossed it," Kensei spits, hardly trying to remove the primal rage from his voice. Even to his own ears it makes him sound inhuman. "Dammit, Kojima, who put you up to this?! You're not this sadistic. Not Ichimaru. Aizen or Tosen?! Tell me! _Aizen or Tosen?!_ They're the real traitors. _They're the reason I'm dying!_" The white-haired man yells, taking all his frustration out at the lesser officer.

"Do you think I asked to be like this? I had a future! I was going to get married to some pretty Fourth Division girl and yell at little kids when they get bad grades at the Academy. I was going to die in my old age instead of having my body fucking rejecting itself and losing my mind!" He explodes, anger feeling like a splash of cold water, waking him up from his subdued state. "Aizen experimented on me and took that away forever! I'm in a living hell because I get up every morning and decide to protect ungrateful bastards like you from the monster in my head when it's killing me! I'm not pretending to be anything! Just me, whatever the hell that is! Where in hell do you get off talking about any of that?!"

Kensei stops, startled to find wetness pricking at his eyes. He thought he'd lost the ability to cry. "Just...just make it end already. I haven't slept in so long. I just need to sleep. I don't care what you have to do, I want to die. _Kill me before he kills you,_" The white-haired captain says softly, wearily, posture drooping. He knows he looks like a walking corpse, skin sallow and paper-white with thick black rings beneath his eyes. Once physically powerful, he's now weakened to the point of being exhausted from walking the length of the meeting hall. All his bones are prominent, eyes sunken. Without trying to keep up the masquerade, it must be even more pronounced.

All the people around him are staring with a mixture of sorrow, fear, disgust, and shock. Kensei tries to hammer it home. "Do it! I'm begging you to kill me. Or I'll kill him." The threat comes from a sudden inspiration. Threatening to kill someone seems like a pretty good way to commit suicide by Shinigami, in his opinion.

"Ha. You've gone right from claiming you're human to threatening to murder me. I expected nothing less." Masaaki says in a strained voice, voice nearly giving out from the pressure on his throat. "Rebellious hypocrite." Kensei tightens his grip, drawing a thin line of blood on his captive's throat with the edge of his Zanpakuto. But distracted as he is, the white-haired captain's failed to notice that his captive's seized his Zanpakuto. "I'll grant that wish. Detonate, Kasai no Ikari!"

His sword, an ordinary katana, gains a pattern of red flames on the _tsuka _as the fourth seat draws it. Golden liquid glistens on its surface. Kensei doesn't manage to dodge the swipe Masaaki takes at him, slashing through his _shihakusho _and making a thin, shallow cut on the hybrid's emaciated torso.

He says nothing, choosing instead to narrow his eyes and shove back the tide of murderous intent and power rising in him, darkness starting to obscure his vision. Without prelude, any confusion his attacker may have provoked as to the nature of his abilities is cleared up.

"First Blast: Drill_."_ Masaaki intones, and suddenly a blast of fire erupts from nowhere. A triumphant grin spreads over the man's face. "Too powerful for you, Arrancar?" He taunts.

Urahara appears in front of the green-eyed man, expression serious and sword wordlessly released. "Blood Mist Shield!" He cries, blocking the attack and following up with a punch to the gut. "Now, now, that was entirely uncalled-for. Stay down if you value your life, please." The resident mad scientist turns to Kensei, sprawled on the ground. "Help up?" He offers.

"N- Ah, fuck it. Yes." The white-haired captain grumbles. Just as he's about to take Urahara up on it, Kensei starts to cough harshly. Coughing turns into practically trying to get rid of his lungs, which turns into what he thinks is vomit until it actually comes up. Something like liquid bone erupts from Kensei's mouth and eyes, long-suppressed Hollow _reiatsu _finally throwing off the weak Shinigami power keeping it down and flaring out. The flesh on his feet withers, prompting a gurgling scream of pain from the hybrid that continues as his body reconfigures itself, something like plated gloves forming on his hands. Blood spurts from Kensei's back, shoulders, and arms as pillars of bone burst from them. The mask on his face finally settles, completing the transformation in all of a few seconds.

Finally, the white-haired captain is thrown into the unconsciousness he so sorely needs.

* * *

When Kensei awakens, he's standing in a peaceful Rukongai town. A lake shimmers in the distance, and a forest, gently swaying in the breeze, surrounds the place. It's a town of fishing and lumber, of artisans and mill-workers. Kensei would know. He very nearly became one of those mill-workers.

Kensei is the sixth son of the Muguruma family, born shortly after his fifth brother was killed at age seven in a Hollow attack. He was destined to work in a grain-mill by one of the rivers that flowed into the lake, just like the rest of his family. The only things that made him stand out were his odd hair color and impressive stamina, which Kensei now knows was drawn from his spirit power.

He was around fourteen when his little secret came out: the fairly ordinary son of a mill-worker had significant spirit power and was practicing little tricks with it in secret. Unfortunately, that secret was discovered when he got angry at his oldest brother and proceeded to nearly take his head off with a blast of raw spiritual energy, scorching off a good deal of hair in the process.

From there Kensei became something of a golden boy to his community. Admired for his power, marveled at for his hair, and feared just a bit for his temper and physical strength. When he visited after becoming a captain, his parents were so proud.

Kensei hasn't been home to visit ever since the transformation. The white-haired captain was too scared to find out if the Hollow inside him will act like those in the living world, trying to destroy its loved ones to bury its heart.

Now his family is standing in front of him, bleeding and wounded, and the Ninth Division's captain's hometown is razed to the ground, smashed up and burned. All seven of his family members have a mix of terror, disgust, hate, and anger on their faces.

"What–" Kensei starts, instinctively reaching out a hand.

"Get away." His father orders, rage dominating his expression. "Get away, you monster. Don't come near my family after what you've done. After what you've become."

The hybrid is stunned into silence, which his mother breaks.

"Please, just give me back my son. Give Kensei back!" She sobs.

Kensei stumbles back, flinching. "I _am _your son!" He yells. "Muguruma Kensei! That's me!"

"We don't have a Hollow for a brother." Saburo, one of his brothers, shoots back, voice heartbroken. "My little brother would never do this." With that, Kensei's family collapses, blood spurting from their wounds. He runs forward, but they're dead before they hit the ground. The world whites out around him, until the white-haired captain is standing before Mashiro.

This Mashiro isn't the one he knows, though. She's healthy, hair lustrous and eyes bright, her body restored. Kensei can feel the strength radiating off of her. Even though he has a dim idea that this isn't real, all that is forgotten in the relief of seeing his lieutenant truly alive again.

"Mashiro!" The white-haired man exclaims. "You're okay! Idiot, you know it annoys me when my lieutenant's out of commission."

Mashiro looks at him blankly, fear creeping onto her face. "Who're you? You're not Kensei! Y-you're a Hollow! Stay away from me! Kensei! Kensei! Help me!" She wails, and out of nowhere a man appears beside her. It's Kensei who stands there next to his lieutenant, as strong as she is and just as troubled. The doppelganger draws Tachikaze and points him at the real Kensei.

"Look, punk, I don't know if you're smart enough to realize it, but you're dealin' with a captain of the Gotei 13. 'Cause Mashiro's here, I'll let you go for today. But if I ever see your ugly-ass mask around here again, I'll kill you." The other Kensei growls.

The real Kensei takes a step back, his confusion and growing fear written all over his face. "Mashiro! I'm Kensei! What're you saying? I'm not a Hollow!"

The green-haired lieutenant's eyes are brimming with tears as she takes a few frantic steps back herself. "I don't know who you used to be, but stop claiming to be meanie Kensei! Or I'll have to purify you myself, Mashiro-style!"

The world whites out again, and when it settles, he's in the captains' meeting hall again. But now he's on the ground, on a block of sekki-seki stone, with chains lashing him to it and burning his skin. In this vision, Tosen stands in the Ninth Division haori_, _Aizen and Gin taking the places of Shinji and Rose respectively. That freak Kurotsuchi is the Twelfth Division's captain.

Ukitake's expression is sad, and troubled, and coolly determined. "There isn't a way to purify it, Captain-Commander? We should at least try to honor Kensei's memory."

"I'm sure Kurotsuchi-kun and Aizen-kun could whip somethin' up, couldn't they?" Kyouraku adds. "They're good men, smart men who've helped a lot in all this. Shouldn't be too hard."

"No. Execution by the Sogyoku is the only punishment fitting for a creature if its nature." Yamamoto rumbles. "We cannot allow the possibility of the Hollow surviving."

"Its very existence is a crime I will not let go unpunished." Kuchiki Ginrei says solemnly.

"Stop!" Kensei screams in anguish, finally cracking. "Stop doing this! I'm not a monster! I'm a Shinigami, a captain! You can't do this to me! I'm your friend! I've worked with you all! Can't you see they're the traitors? Aizen, Ichimaru, Tosen, they humiliated me, made me this way! They ruined my life and took my future!" Or that's what he tries to say. All that comes out is a series of tortured grunts and a roaring noise. The white-haired man can feel his body, warped beyond belief into his Hollow's form, straining against his bindings.

The emotions he's tried to keep in check during this slow death come pouring out, despair and desperation and terror and shame and fury all at once. Kensei howls, but no matter how much sorrow wells up inside of him, no tears fall. They can't. Hollows don't cry.

The world whites out one final time, and then he's standing in his inner world. Platforms of earth levitate high in the sky, clouds far beneath. Bitingly cold winds whistle past. It's a twisted mockery of his inner world, though. The winds that sing past Kensei might be strong, but they're either comfortably warm or refreshingly cold, except when Tachikaze's irritated with him. Storm clouds shouldn't be beneath the floating islands of his soul, and those islands shouldn't be crumbling.

Kensei's face-to-face with the demon in his soul, too, grinning horrifically at him. "You're looking freaked-out. Something got you all riled up?" It taunts him. "Oh, don't worry, the Princess and the Royal Family of yours weren't real. Neither were those weakling Shinigami you were trying to protect. They will be, though. Right now, you're trying to kill them, just like a Hollow should. They're already rejecting you, already hating you for what you are. Can't just yell at 'em and give 'em your so-called 'tough love' to make 'em snap out of it. They know now."

It draws a reversed version of Tachikaze. "What're you waiting for? Don't you want to settle this the right way, all fair and even like you like it?" The Hollow barks a laugh, gravelly tones a mockery of Kensei's. "Just two tough guys, beating the shit out of each other. Don't get it? I'll have to beat it into you!" It lunges forward, shrieking and slashing at its host.

Kensei barely manages to block in time, surprised to discover that he's got his Zanpakuto drawn already and his reflexes are back to normal. The monster in front of him laughs harshly. "Surprised? It wouldn't be fair if you and I weren't on the same level here, would it? Even I got rules!" It batters his blade with its own before kicking him in the gut, the force sending him through the sides of two platforms before he strikes one and falls. Supporting himself with a spirit platform, the feeling beautifully familiar and missed, Kensei takes a flying leap at the monster in his head with a war-cry.

The ensuing battle isn't philosophic at all, as one might think a battle in the soul should be. It's exactly what the Hollow said it would be– two beings trying to flatten each other and shred each other to ribbons. There's no breath to spare for insults and curses. All their energy goes to fighting. Punches, kicks, driving elbows into soft spots and slashing with Tachikaze, anything's fair game when it's a fight to the death. There's too much to risk to fight on honor.

When Kensei releases his Zanpakuto, his personal demon does the same, followed by Bankai when the white-haired man tries to grab an advantage through that. It wasn't kidding when it said that they were on the same level. Every move is mirrored by the monster in his soul, every strike blocked and every slash dodged.

From there, it's a battle of willpower, nothing more. Knowing there's no edge he can get on the Hollow, Kensei's got a desperate need to win, to survive. He has to be the best, has to use all his strength or there will be nothing after this but suffering for everyone close to him. Kyouraku, Ukitake, his family, Shinji and Rose and all the others... Mashiro. It's not a matter of can't. Kensei won't lose. He will not, and there can be no uncertainty in it.

When he finally drives a knuckle blade through its chest with a hiss of determination, the Hollow releases a satisfied grunt. "Guess...guess you were stronger than I thought, King. You can have your sissy life for now. Don't plan on me leaving you alone– I'll always be here, ready. But you'll be alone in controlling the body for a while. I'll bow to you." It turns into the dust dried blood would form if it could, blowing away in the wind, which becomes less sharp, though it only warms slowly.

Kensei comes to realize that there's the sound of harsh breathing coming from behind him as he falls to his knees, and he twists to see Tachikaze crouched there. The large dragon, perfect for someone who considers himself a protector, has bronze scales duller than he remembers, his mauve mane limp and dirty. Tachikaze looks up at him from where he lies curled up in the dust, and the white-haired captain realizes that his dove-grey, ring-carved horns are chipped.

"Kensei... you've won this battle with him. I'd expect nothing less from someone I've trained to such a caliber," The dragon croaks, reptilian gaze never leaving his master's face.

"Him?" Kensei says, somewhat outraged. "That beast is an _it, _nothing more."

Tachikaze frowns sharply. "He is a reflection of you, warped or not. The Hollow is definitely male. Never mind," The dragon waves a claw in front of his face. "We'll talk about this later. For now, I'll just say that I'm happy you beat him. I've been fighting him these past months to keep him from you. I know every aspect of his power, as he knows every facet of mine. So remember this– I've been weakened too much to lend my power to you in fights for a while, but you can use his. Will the mask onto your face. With your mastery over him, you'll be able to transform for a short period of time–longer eventually–and not lose your mind. Cero, Hierro, Sonido, greater strength and speed, and numbing of pain, these are all open to you. Maybe, when I've recovered, you can use both Shinigami and Hollow abilities at the same time."

"Hollow powers?" The white-haired man echoes. A slow, achingly weary grin spreads over his face. Power is power, Hollow or Shinigami. Maybe he's a captain of the Shinigami, but he's also dangerously weak. And if the iron-willed Kensei's lost control, the others can't be any better off in the real world. He _needs _that strength. "Works for me. Let's go." With a thought, Kensei's left his inner world.

* * *

"...tain! Ya back, Captain?"

When Kensei's eyes open, he gasps for breath, finding that he can't get enough oxygen despite the pain in his lungs. Winning a duel to the death doesn't automatically repair the damage done before it, he guesses. A bit of the pain-numbing power that Tachikaze mentioned keeps it from hurting too badly when the flesh on his feet is restored and the rods sticking out of his back break apart. The body of the Hollow around him cracks, then shatters as Kensei starts to move to get the unharmed mask off.

Staring him down is that grey-haired sixth seat Matsushima, exhibiting power levels too high to be Shikai and too shaky to be a mature Bankai. Plated armor of silver and gold covers the tiny Shinigami, helmet barely exposing his face. More pressing is the bladed gauntlets that are uncomfortably close to him, blue fire running down their lengths. He doesn't look pleased by any stretch of the imagination.

"Captain Muguruma." Ryuu says in relief, voice unexpectedly high. "You're _back. _I thought we lost you." He stands down, armor melting back into a _wakizashi _that the grey-haired boy sheathes. Kensei's eyes nearly bug out as he sees what can only be politely described as _it_. It's not just the blood and gashes, or the fact that one shoulder is discoloring and swelling. That sort of stuff he's used to– what he isn't used to is seeing a tight sarashi wrap beneath Ryuu's _shihakusho, _torn to partially expose a chest that does not belong on someone of the male gender. The sixth seat follow his eyes and turns brilliant red.

"Moron! Don't keep staring!" She snaps, hands flying up to cover her chest. "I'll deal with this later."

"Yeah, _I_ will." He retorts, flushing a similar shade of red and forcing his mildly horrified gaze upwards. "I probably don't want to know, but I sure as hell will. What happened and why are you here?"

Ryuu casts a glance around the meeting hall, largely destroyed and splattered with blood and bits of torn fabric. It reeks of _reiatsu _both Shinigami and Hollow. Everyone else, save the two, is gone.

"Tosen's off on official business and I was supposed to come to fill in if you and Kuna-chan were too sick to continue being in the meeting. That's why I'm here. Zanpakuto gave me a test– I was workin' fer Bankai already and he decided this was a good final test– and I hit Bankai after I ran in to see what was goin' on. Lieutenant Omaeda, Sarugaki, Lieutenant Kuchiki took whatever the hell you turned into on too, but Lieutenant Kuchiki... drew that thing's attention and did a bunch of damage before he got killed. That's why I'm alive. Omaeda had to take on Sarugaki when she transformed, so they're off fighting with Lieutenant Shiba." The grey-haired Shinigami explains in a hushed, almost bleak tone. The sixth seat casts a worried gaze around. "It did a number on everything."

"He killed someone." Kensei says, able to believe it but not wanting to. "I killed someone." He grabs her, ignoring the tight hiss of pain she makes. "Matsushima, or whatever you're called, am I a monster? Do I look like a monster to you?"

"No and no. You look like a walking corpse to me, but five seconds ago you looked like a monster. And whatever was in control of that form is a monster. It killed someone, not you." Ryuu says shakily. "Can we have this talk later when there aren't other Arrancar-whatsits trying to kill more people? And can you respect my personal space and the fact that my shoulder's dislocated and _let go?!_" She demands.

Kensei releases her, taking the deepest breath he can. "Yeah, that's how it'll have to be. You can fight?"

"I can always fight." The sixth seat replies, grimacing as she moves to draw her sword.

"So stop whining and let's go." The white-haired captain snaps. It's time to take his life back.

* * *

When all's said and done, Kuchiki Sojun and Yamada Seinosuke are the only casualties, which are miraculously light. If death had been the only thing to mar the calm after the storm, Kensei's foul mood might've been a little lighter. As it was, Unohana had to ask him twice to calm down so he would get control of his leaking reiatsu and stop keeping the entire division, patients included, on edge. Much to the dismay of all cleared to know, the hybrids' reiatsu finally settles and blends, becoming truly hybridized. If there was any chance of changing them back, it's gone now.

On the bright side, those able after beating their Hollows helped out with the other fights, which led to the duels becoming progressively shorter. That in itself was a blessing for the buildings of the Pure White Court and a point in the favor of the hybrids.

Unohana finally manages to get the eight into the Fourth Division, where she has her hands full trying to restore the reiatsu of people with dual reiatsu_. _Fortunately, none of them have enough energy to resist this time, though the ever-belligerent Hiyori tries.

Their bodies are wrecked, very much underweight with the lungs, vocal cords, and teeth damaged. All eight are quite sleep-deprived, body fat, bones, and muscle mass depleted, which their inner Hollows were sadly able to bypass. The Fourth Division's captain marvels as she tends to Kensei that they even managed to get to the meeting.

There must be something resembling panic in the Seireitei, if Kensei's experience with the upper class is anything to go by. A high noble, dead at the hands of a Hollow hybrid captain from the Rukongai with allies affected by the same condition, is a very delicate situation indeed. Given the fact that Sojun wasn't just a high noble, but the intended heir to the Kuchiki clan, it's a wonder the fighting that must be going on between the Central 46, the Gotei 13, and the nobles hasn't razed Seireitei to the ground already.

A frown crosses his face. If it gets serious and the Gotei 13 refuses to hand him over for whatever fate they would hand down, there'll be all-out war.

Not every reiatsu user becomes a Shinigami– some work as guards for the Central 46, others for the nobles, and still others are tutored but leave it at that and don't get a job that uses their skills. And just because they don't become warriors for the Pure White Court doesn't make them weak. On the contrary. Only the best fighters could ever be employed by the Central 46 and nobles, and those who don't become affiliated with any organization often push themselves to their breaking point and simply don't see the point of working with anyone weaker.

So the Gotei 13 would have to resist with martial force. As a captain, Kensei would have to fight. Could he do that? The sense of his own power that the white-haired man possesses tells him that while his reiatsu's been restored, his Shinigami powers are far from being ready for use, leaving Hollow powers as the only option. Kensei's a combat pragmatist, but the two times he's been in the grip of that power–though admittedly he was only semi-conscious the first time–have been enough to leave him wanting nothing to do with his other side.

He just hopes that he can heal up fast so that doesn't have to be the only option.

The Ninth Division's captain heaves a sigh as he snaps his book shut. If it weren't for the books left in the rooms for patients who are expected to be in the Fourth Division longer than a week, he would've gone stir-crazy already. This is his fourth time reading _Perils of the Seven Blades: Attack of the Titans, _and it hasn't become any more interesting. Mashiro chatters at him when she's awake, or at least not pretending to be asleep, as she's doing right now. The green-haired lieutenant seemingly can't decide if she wants to fake-sleep cutely, realistically, or as obnoxiously as possible.

He ends up tearing a couple of the blank filler pages out of the book and making them into tiny balls of crumpled-up paper, which he chucks at the door. Given the blankness of the walls, the door's really the only thing he can make a target out of. That is, until a massive, pink-haired man slides it open and receives a paper wad to the face.

"Ah!" Hachi reaches up and plucks it off, looking at the little scrap bemusedly, gaze traveling to the small pile at his feet. "I take it you're bored, Captain Muguruma?"

"Very." Kensei replies, making a face. "Don't suppose you've got any new books? Or just plain news? Unohana-san won't let either of us get out of bed without help. Why do you get to walk around, anyway?" He frowns at the Kido specialist in frustration.

"You'd be surprised to know that you and Kuna-san are in fact the only ones confined to bed," Hachi says. "My guess is that your dual Hollowfications damaged your bodies more than the rest of ours."

The Ninth's captain blinks, then rolls his eyes. "Of course we are. Sorry 'bout the paper, by the way. I read all the books and there's not really anything else to do until Unohana-san gives me a clean bill of health."

A slight smile appears on the other man's features. "If you'd like, I can bring our similarly afflicted friends into here. Given that Captain Unohana's restricted us to this ward, it shouldn't be too difficult for me to locate them."

"Yes," Kensei responds fervently. "I'm ready to throw Mashiro through a wall, she talks so much. Even that frigid prick Kuchiki'd be preferable to her." He stops, remembering exactly why that'd be a very bad idea. "Or maybe not. Get 'em in here, will ya?"

Hachi nods and bows, retreating from the doorway and following five others into the room after what feels like an eternity. Mashiro stops feigning sleep, sitting up, and with that a semi-ordinary conversation ensues.

"We need a different name." He says out of the blue. "I mean, we can't just be called hybrids with the Arrancar around, and I'd rather die than get associated with them."

Shinji frowns at him. "Way to kill the mood, Muguruma."

Kensei scowls back. Normal's all well and good, but when they're all potentially dangerous freaks whose lives hang in the balance, there's not much normal left anymore.

"Why?" Love asks, cutting off any retort Hisagi's savior could've given. "Don't need a different name."

"We kinda do," The blond responds. "I'm sick of hearin' people call it 'your condition' or 'your nature.' Makes it sound like we're barely-restrained monsters. Hybrids is too vague, and it's obvious we can't be called Shinigami anymore, not really."

"Still don't see why," The afro-sporting hybrid grumbles.

The eight toy with several names before Lisa, ever the lover of language and cultural exchange– much of it due to her desire to read her erotica in the original language and get people from across the world to have steamy relations– proposes 'Visored.' None of them have the slightest understanding of it until she explains that it's from an English word that means 'masked.' It's appropriate enough, and has a ring to it, so they go with that. Kensei's the one who decides that it'll be written with the kanji for 'masked army' on the basis that they're soldiers that wear masks, though Hiyori complains about the word 'army' sounding more like legions of people than just eight. The white-haired man tells her where she can stick her complaints, and that's the end of that.

* * *

Eventually Kensei and Mashiro are allowed out of bed, and in taking a walk around the ward, the Ninth Division's captain discovers that not only are they not allowed to leave, entrance is heavily restricted.

"Hey, Unohana-sempai," Shinji asks one day when said healer is examining them, "What's the deal? I'm pretty sure we're all okay to be walking around."

She turns her ever-serene face to him. "Yes, as am I. The authority in this case does not lie with me, but no one has yet managed to establish claim on you to decide the best course of action."

"Meaning whether to execute us or not?" Rose asks, golden brows lifting slightly in worry. Unohana doesn't answer, choosing instead to begin testing how well Love can rotate his left wrist.

"Che. Knew it." Hiyori grumbles. "And they won't even allow us to have a say?"

"If everybody got a say in what happened to them, there wouldn't be a legal system. Nobody really wants to get punished, even if they deserve it." Lisa points out, squinting slightly at the short blonde's form. In the chaos that ensued from the Visored's transformations, no one was careful to avoid crushing her glasses, understandably, and with the extremely tight restrictions surrounding them, she hasn't been able to get a new pair.

"I don't suppose there's even the slightest chance that you'll happen to turn your back and mysteriously find us gone?" Rose says hopefully.

"Tensions are far too high for me to allow that. Even an accident could be all that is needed for the Kuchiki clan to justify hunting you down." She begins to examine Love's right hand, specifically the fingers. Each tip is slightly scarred. "Aikawa-san. Would I be correct in assuming that in fact you are the cause of Lieutenant Kotsubaki's wound?"

The captain of the Seventh Division rubs the nape of his neck with his free hand. "Ah...heh. Yeah, it was an accident. I didn't know I could do that."

"And we all thank God for that," Kensei mutters from across the room, leaning against the wall. Love ignores him.

"Interesting," the Fourth's captain murmurs. "Could you do it again if you wanted to, Aikawa-san?"

"Naw," he answers. "I don't think it was part of 'my' Hollow powers. More like the Hollow trying to transform me. Or just doing whatever it did to wreck my body." Love shrugs. "Dunno, really. I'm not Urahara."

"I see," Unohana says, straightening again. "This is the first I've heard about Hollow powers, though. Would any of you like to explain it to me? Perhaps you, Hirako-san?" She smiles sweetly, directing her deep blue gaze at Shinji, whose casual expression changes to one of distress.

"Ah, crap. I was hoping we wouldn't have to talk about that, y'know?" The blond pushes a lock of golden hair away from his face. "Well, if there's no avoiding it, it looks like our inner Hollows work a little bit like Zanpakuto spirits in that if you fulfill a condition, they'll let you use their power. In this case, that meant beating 'em up in our heads." The Fifth Division's captain glances around. "You guys did that too, right?" Seeing the series of nods, he continues. "My inner world at least is still kinda outta whack, so Sakanade's power and Kido and stuff're off limits for now. Should be back t'normal soon, but for now the only practical way I could fight would be to use Hollow powers. Not real eager for that."

The healer processes this. "Understandably. Which abilities, if you know?"

Shinji scrunches his face up in exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Lessee...Cero for sure. Hierro–what exactly is that, anyway? Oh, kinda like natural armor?" He completely fails to notice the weirded-out stares sent his way at what appears to be a crazy chat with himself. "Jerk. Don't have to be that snarky about it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it'd make me way faster and stronger too. I don't remember feeling as much pain while I had the mask on, either. That's all, I think."

Unohana blinks. "That's all? Thank you for telling me, Hirako-san." She smiles again, this time covering up her shock. 'That's all' is a severe understatement. The strength of the Hollowfied Shinigami, though of a different sort than an ordinary person's, seemed to be about on par with Bankai. Maybe even stronger, as they'd only increased in strength over the course of the battles. It had eventually become a matter of making sure they didn't get any stronger rather than saving their own power.

Shinji's seeming nonchalance and simple descriptions of the abilities open to the hybrids might've been enough to put anyone else at ease, but the former Kenpachi well knows that harmless facades often hide the most dangerous people. Nearly every captain of the Gotei 13 was an example of that, save for the captains of the First, Sixth, and Eleventh. And just as often, the least elaborate techniques are able to do tremendous damage.

The brief slippage of the 'perfectly ordinary Shinigami' mask that the blond's been determinedly showing to her is mildly troubling, though. The next day, Unohana personally evaluates the mental health of the Visored, and comes to the conclusion that while none appear to be insane– at least not in the fun way, a shame considering Minazuki's thirst for blood–they all have Hollows speaking in their heads, explaining Shinji's outburst. She breathes a mental sigh of relief upon coming to that conclusion. Repairing damaged psyches is something that is rather more difficult for the Fourth than mending broken bodies.

A few days after that examination, Unohana smooths her shihakusho and exits the ward with her usual smile of farewell. She uses flash-step to escape the general chaos. Even just over a week after the hybrid officers' rampage, nothing is how it should be. No one's sure where anyone is, no one's sure if some people have taken the chance to desert, are simply hard to track down for whatever reason, or are dead, and repair work has been extended to all the divisions.

Sliding back into ordinary movement, the dark-haired Shinigami arrives in front of the headquarters of the Central 46. Ordinarily, no one but the members of the legislative body is allowed there. Today, that restriction is lifted.

It is time for official deliberation to begin on the fate of the hybrids.


	17. Removed Masks

_Ah, the Central 46, so mysterious and so corrupt that they make me want to vomit. Given America's own legislative bodies, however, I can't really say that they're vastly different from real life. Exaggerated, but still._

_Oh, and I apologize profusely for what I've done. I got the worst headcanon that all people of implausible but not outright impossible hair color (my idea is that those with impossible hair have been influenced physically by their spirit pressure) are at least minor nobles or related to some. Thus, Rose, Kira, Shinji, Hiyori, and Kiyone (by extension her sister) are all minor nobles. Matsumoto is a rare exception, and I theorize that Aizen is the bastard child of a high noble and a peasant woman whose start of darkness (i.e., when he gave up his search for a way to fit in) began when he learned of his parentage. And heaven help my shipping (I ship ShiYori) because I got the idea that the reason for Shinji and Hiyori being even more familiar than they are with others is because they're childhood friends, as Hiyori's family is a branch house of Shinji's. They're...second or third cousins in my head. But their families are less prestigious than Rose's. I imagine that Urahara's minor noble house, residing in a remote location, was hit by disease before the Fourth could get there, and he was the only survivor. The Shihoin clan took him in, and he took a new name from a character in a book he'd had at the time, his only comfort among the tragedy. As he doesn't fit the Fourth, I imagine this prompted him to search for knowledge where he could find it (the Onmitsukidou are the intelligence division at the time of his joining) and explains his...slight detachment from others' problems. _

_Forgive me for this and for the dialogue blocks. They _are _supposed to sway opinions with their speeches in this chapter and nobles are, I imagine, wordy at times, so I think it's justified. Bear with me and read the dialogue! I tried hard!_

* * *

Waiting is part of life. Kasumi understands that. But that doesn't mean she likes waiting for all 46 members of Soul Society's legislative body, as well as pretty much every important member of every noble clan, to file into their seats. How many idiot nobles can there be, anyway?

The acting captain of the Ninth–emphasis on acting, given that she's only there to round out the represented divisions of the Gotei 13–passes time by counting the clans. Kuchiki, of course, Shiba, Shihoin, Otoribashi, Shibata, Kira, Kyouraku, Ukitake, Hirako-Sarugaki, Omaeda...and they just keep on coming. Finally, though, everyone is present. She breathes a sigh of relief, quieter than normal due to present company.

While the non-Central 46 nobles kneel on cushions set in tiers to the left and right of the Central 46, said judges and sages are obscured behind numbered screens. The captains and lieutenants stand on a rarely-used balcony facing the Central 46. Today, the Third, Fifth, Seventh, and Ninth are represented by the highest-ranking members of the respective divisions available.

And unfortunately for Kasumi, that means she's filling in for Captain Muguruma. Despite herself, a wave of revulsion floods her upon thinking of the real captain of the Ninth Division. The grey-haired Shinigami wants to remember his usual surly frown and his rare but infinitely affirming smirk of approval, but all that comes to her mind is the armored monster, reiatsu that makes her nearly vomit rolling off of it.

Her steel-colored head dips unconsciously, chin tilting slightly towards her chest, the defensive motion in contrast to her firmly planted feet and puffed-out chest. Not that the sixth seat really has all that much to begin with, but it's important to present an image of her division being confident and strong. Just like her captain did...

Kasumi flinches at the thought, sticking her chin out stubbornly again. Maybe she doesn't have the salary or power level of a true captain, but for right now she has just as much right to stand here as anyone else.

To the casual onlooker, though, that determined air is rather offset by the fact that the nominal captain elected to take one of Kensei's haori and wear it. Given that he's a good nine-and-a-half-inches taller, the white garment practically swallows her up. At least it's sleeveless, which helps a bit.

A gong rings out, its deep tones filling the dead-silent space as the meeting is begun. Captain Unohana and Captain Urahara take their places on the witness stand–as rarely used as the balcony for Shinigami. Having the most knowledge of the hybrid officers, they're naturally going to be the ones testifying. Kasumi thinks sourly that maybe they should have another person who actually went head-to-head with those monsters on that stand, but reconsiders when she realizes she doesn't really want to talk in front of all these nobles.

"Before the Central 46 permits the captains of the Fourth and Twelfth to speak, the current regent of the Kuchiki Clan, Kuchiki Awairo, is permitted to express his beliefs on the fate of these...beasts," the man sitting behind the screen numbered '1' intones. "He will assume the authority of Clan Head Kuchiki Ginrei until this matter is resolved. The clan head will not be permitted to testify, given the potential of bias, however slim, towards his former colleagues."

_Like Kawaiiko, or whatever his name is, isn't going to be biased, _Kasumi thinks sarcastically, repressing a sneeze. It's incredibly dusty where the members of the Gotei 13 stand, despite the almost sterile cleanliness of the rest of the chamber, and her mild-but-annoying allergy to dust is threatening to kick in at any moment. And what with the seriousness of the situation, she can't even have some fun with her usual intentionally thunderous sneezes. Even a tiny squeak of a sneeze is going to be frowned on here. The petite Shinigami supposes she's fortunate to have had past experience with acting like a china doll, all mute and expressionless. Doesn't make it _fun, _though.

Kasumi presses her lips together in worry as said Kuchiki rises from his seiza position, her hands clenching into fists. Brief puzzlement replaces her anxiety as she realizes her calloused palms are actually sweaty. She wipes them on Kensei's haori and looks back at the pale-faced high noble.

Kawaiiko, as the sixth seat has decided the temporary leader of the Kuchiki clan will be called, is fittingly tall and elegant-looking as all the Kuchiki are–even their multiple branch houses to a lesser extent. His sable hair falls in an immaculately maintained curtain to his waist, part of it pinned back with a sparkly ornament that's probably triple Kasumi's yearly salary. Slate-colored eyes noticeably flick over to where Ginrei stands, or rather to the space beside him where Sojun usually is, though the only lieutenants here are the ones replacing their Hollowfied captains anyway. Yep, this noble is an impressive one. Attractive, too.

A faint blush stains Kasumi's sun-browned face, and she focuses her gaze on the shadowed ceiling. Somewhere to her left, a small sneeze is muffled by a black sleeve, nearly triggering the sixth seat to release a squeak of a sneeze herself.

The grey-haired Shinigami can almost feel the glares of the nobles directed their way. Good thing she's been working on her Captain Muguruma-style death glare. Though now isn't the time to use it, given that Kawaiiko is starting to speak.

"My fellow nobles, members of the Central 46...supporters of those abominations, I ask that you look at this case objectively: eight monsters, Hollows who happen to look like Shinigami, have rampaged through the Pure White Court." He spreads his delicate, pale hands in the air, and Kasumi's attraction is immediately overshadowed by her newfound dislike of the man. Anybody with lily-soft hands like that is just a prissy, servant-reliant noble in her book, no matter how chiseled his features. "They have brutally murdered my younger cousin, the heir to the leadership of the Kuchiki clan and father of poor Byakuya-kun with his devastated young wife Sakura," Kawaiiko gives the youth a sympathetic glance, "as well as the upstanding lieutenant of the Fourth Division."

Here it's a vast effort of will for Kasumi to suppress a snort. Byakuya's lost his dully sad look in favor of a pissed-off expression, and Sakura's face is schooled to such a lack of emotion that she looks more like someone's just commented that a rock halfway across Soul Society was ground into dust, typical for noble women. _That _she could've ignored, but referring to Seinosuke as upstanding is really pushing it. He was nearly as antagonistic and rude towards his own division when Unohana wasn't around as the members of the Eleventh, even if he got things done.

"Horrific damage has been wreaked over swaths of the city, forcing the Gotei 13 to ignore other problems to deal with repairs. The bills alone will financially devastate the squads. The bodies of the lieutenant and third seat of the Fifth, from what I've been told, in addition to those of the fourth seats of the Ninth and Tenth, have yet to be found, among others, and have yet to exceed the time by which they can be officially called dead. These are the only reasons why I was not able to list them as having been slaughtered with Sojun-dono and Yamada." Kawaiiko's voice strengthens, becoming louder and firmer as he speaks. His refined brow draws together slightly, akin to anger for a Kuchiki.

"Wouldn't say devastate," Kasumi mutters beneath her breath to no one in particular. Even the informal Shiba Isshin and Kyouraku Shunsui don't look in the mood for jokes, but she can't help and try to make a wisecrack. It's part of her long-used Ryuu persona, after all, deeply ingrained by now. "More like take a helluva long time t'be fixed, that's all. Less sake 'n' more work."

"They are freaks of nature and threats to Soul Society! They've proved deceptive enough to conceal their true natures up until it was impossible to deny–through the brave work of other officers–and the destruction and killing they've perpetuated should be all the indication we need as to their morality and intent. Even if we're able to suppress these tendencies, the Hollows' utter insanity will inevitably reassert itself and they will use any chance we give them to destroy us!"

His expression hardens, turning solemn in a way that Kasumi has a strong suspicion is false. "I want to think that something of Otoribashi-san and his similarly afflicted friends remains, but I have seen nothing that proves that. To honor their memories, and preserve the honors of their families, we need to eliminate these monsters before the dangerous power they possess goes out of control again and leaves more families broken like my own. Thank you, esteemed and honorable members of the Central 46 and the noble clans for listening." The dark-haired man bows low, but doesn't kneel again.

"That is all, then, Kuchiki Awairo?" The reedy-sounding man behind the screen marked '2' asks, voice sickeningly warm in the way that implies closeness.

"Yes, sir," Kawaiiko–she refuses to dignify him with his real name despite having relearned it–answers with patently false humility.

"Then be seated once more."

The pale-faced noble drops into seiza again with ease that any Shinigami would envy. Far too often, official ceremonies require seiza, and far too often half the people present require the Fourth Division just to stand, as Kasumi's poor legs can attest.

The nobles are murmuring among themselves, some looking righteously angry, as if they agree, while others seem disgruntled and unhappy with the Kuchiki man's words. Most are divided, even among the same family. Otoribashi Rin has a hard expression, while her father–Shiro? no, Seizo–looks as if he's in mourning, along with his pretty wife, whose name Kasumi can't recall to save her life. The members of the Hirako clan present, along with their branch family, the Sarugaki, have no unifying emotion, all maintaining unsettlingly cheerful expressions, though the cadence of the words exchanged among them suggests agitation and division. The Ushoda, many of them diplomats, have their legendarily calm facades up, their words probably just as peaceful. If only there were more of them in the Central 46, which is outright in an uproar.

"Captains Unohana and Urahara. Deliver your testimony," '1' orders.

"Thank you very much," the black-braided woman says with a smile. In the room, which has gone deathly quiet from the second she opened her mouth, her quiet tones carry like ripples in a pond. "Captain Urahara, if you might speak first as to the origins of the hybrids?" She asks sweetly. Kasumi instinctively shudders. The Eleventh might be disdainful of the Fourth, but they're grudgingly respectful most times and rarely outright abusive after their first couple times antagonizing the healers. Only rookies do that to get it out of their systems, which is a truly unforgettable experience, as the grey-haired sixth seat can attest. A chill still goes down her spine when she sees Captain Unohana.

"Right, Unohana-sempai," the blond answers, dropping his customary lazy grin for seriousness. He advances to the outer edge of the witness stand. "It's unfortunate, Kuchiki-dono, but I must inform you that Lieutenant Aizen, Third Seat Ichimaru, and Fourth Seat Tosen were all traitors to Soul Society and to the Gotei 13. We've been unable to definitively establish if the fourth seat of the Tenth was a traitor as well or a well-intentioned officer who was manipulated. But what is known for certain is that this trio was responsible for the mass murder of souls in the Rukongai." A derisive muttering comes up from the nobles, and Kasumi sends them her best death glare, which goes unnoticed. _Don't they get that that could've happened to them too?_

"We also know for a fact that Tosen was directly responsible for the deaths of the Third, previous Fourth, and Sixth Seats, given the well-hidden traces of his reiatsu in their wounds, and very nearly responsible for the death of his captain and lieutenant. He also cut down two other captains and three lieutenants, in addition to the second-in-command of the Kido Corps. Aizen Sosuke was the creator of the flawed Hollowfication that destroyed several souls, before he modified it and applied it forcibly to the souls of eight captain- and lieutenant-class Shinigami, which were able to withstand the first stage, allowing him to study the long-term effects. They were entirely unwilling in this process and had as much choice in the transformation as the sun has in rising each day." Urahara's voice has turned utterly cold, though his body language gives nothing away. Typical Onmitsukidou.

"He is as guilty of deception as his victims, having lied about the nature of his Zanpakuto's abilities. Aizen is capable of casting impenetrable illusions, though the extent, duration, and conditions of Kyouka Suigetsu's power is unknown. Aizen's own power is enough to be a formidable match for two captains in an out-and-out fight from my assessment. As for evidence, we have six captain-level individuals, including myself, as witnesses, and four lieutenant-level individuals. The lack of alibi for Ichimaru Gin would support his not having been in Seireitei on the night of the incident, though due to Aizen's Zanpakuto abilities and the nature of the mission, both Tosen and Aizen have alibis. The remains of the early Hollowfication victims are in no condition to provide evidence as to their attacker, however, the tools of the Research Bureau could not achieve that and the blame therefore must lie with an outside party, Aizen Sosuke being the only one with sufficient intelligence to design such technology."

"Urahara-san, if you don't mind?" Unohana asks quietly, just loud enough for the officers behind her to hear.

"A moment, Captain Unohana," Urahara replies just as quietly. He then raises his voice. "In addition, it is my suspicion that the report of the previous Third Seat's death was falsified by Aizen and Ichimaru Gin killed the man to take his place. The circumstances, given what we have learned about Aizen and his cohorts, now seem suspect, and are being investigated by the Onmitsukidou for concrete proof." The resident mad scientist bows from the waist. "I'll hand the duty of testifying to Unohana-sempai now, if you don't mind."

Having some sense of self-preservation, no one finds it within themselves to mind, and the blond retreats to allow the chief healer to step forwards.

"My physical assessment of the hybrids is that their bodies are those of Shinigami, but are slightly more resilient to physical trauma than a pure Shinigami and their metabolisms are noticeably quicker, both in healing and processing food. At the moment, they are capable of eating and living on ordinary food and seem to prefer the same foods they enjoyed prior to the change. Their physical processes are not harmed in the slightest by not consuming souls." Unohana's face and tone are clinically detached, but Kasumi can't help but notice that many of the family members of the affected people flinch at the mention of eating souls. She realizes with an inward sigh of annoyance that their clans' reputation have probably suffered.

Idiot nobles thinking that the actions of one, unconnected to the others, say anything about the character of their families. Of course, in the case of a little girl desperate for a life beyond rigid customs and honeyed words, sometimes it speaks volumes, but this isn't such a case.

"After healing, modified slightly to account for dual Shinigami and Hollow reiatsu, their physical health has recovered completely. It appears that what was presented to those who were not complicit in the concealment of the original transformation as a disease was in fact side effects resulting from the gradual transformations into Hollows caused by Hollows inside their souls. Spiritually, the Hollow reiatsu exuded by the aforementioned Hollows has fused with the Shinigami reiatsu of the hybrids, making it completely impossible according to both Captain Urahara's and my assessments to reverse this." Despite the serene tone the Fourth Division's captain takes, her words are enough to send Captain Otoribashi's parents to the exits with a few particularly troubled-looking members of the Hirako and Sarugaki families following. This isn't going well at all, and Unohana's words only bring a little calm to Kasumi's own thoughts. Maybe...maybe Kawaiiko was right, and it's better to honor the memory of who the hybrids were and make Soul Society a safer place?

"This brings me to the mental part of their case, perhaps the most important part." The black-braided woman's heavy braid is barely disturbed by the faint breeze that the movement of doors causes, stirring the dead air, but the tickle of dust around her sends Kasumi's left hand to her right wrist, pinching herself so as not to sneeze. A thin trickle of mucus trembles in her nasal cavities. Not particularly attractive, but it's really, really dusty.

"The most aggression I've seen was annoyance at not being allowed out of bed. By their own admission, the hybrids–they prefer to be called Visored, by the way–would like to avoid violence if at all possible, but would also like very much not to be executed and are prepared to resist efforts taken to do so if force is used. They and I would like it to be noted that the soul of a Hollow is incompatible with the mind of a Shinigami, and therefore a Hollowfied soul that survives the initial infection has an alternate personality inside them to match. These alternate personalities are evidently able to communicate with the host Shinigami but are hostile to the host and prior to a fight for control in their inner worlds succeeded in taking over temporarily. I am pleased to report that all eight won their battles and are completely in control now, but at the time of the attacks were not and should not be held responsible for their actions." A faint frown crosses Unohana's face at this, and given that her gaze is directed at Kawaiiko, it's likely an expression of disapproval for his words.

"The Visored themselves have demonstrated little more than a desire to continue serving as Shinigami and would by far prefer to live as Shinigami. Psychological examination of each one suggests healthy psyches that are no different from their colleagues', without any murderous intent or lack of morals. If anything, they seem anxious to not hurt anyone and be seen as normal, if their concealment of their shared condition and unchanged behavior subsequently are any indication. The Visored also show revulsion at the idea of eating souls in a way that Hollows have never shown," Unohana concludes, her frozen, gentle smile unchanging the entire time. "Of course, all is left up to the wisdom of the Central 46 ultimately."

"Your testimonies are acknowledged, Captains Unohana and Urahara," '1' replies, tone sounding dangerously unconvinced. Even the often tactless Kasumi knows about the political pressure facing the Central 46. There are probably quite a few Kuchiki in their number and several of their allies, and the high noble clan could make life much less comfortable if they wanted to do so. Some sixth sense tells the grey-haired girl that it could go either way. Every silent second that goes by makes her reconsider what the probable verdict will be.

"Do any members of the assembled noble clans have any opinions to offer?" '3' asks, voice practically booming. Apparently even the supposed smartest people in Soul Society haven't completely learned to use an indoor voice.

Kasumi's eyes, wide beneath worried brows, happen to glance at said nobles. Otoribashi Rin looks as if she's already made the hard decision that executing her own brother is right, while most of the Hirako clan seems set against it, in contrast to the Sarugaki. The Ushoda families' faces are largely unreadable, but they're the sort to find the solution that will make the most people happy and absolutely ensure peace.

She's made up her own mind. It's not easy to think, nor does it make her feel completely right inside, but it's one of those unpleasant things she has to do.

The wiry Shinigami vanishes in a burst of flash-step, reappearing in front of Captain Unohana with a muttered apology. "I, Shibata Kasumi, intended 47th heir to the leadership of the Shibata clan and acting captain of the Ninth Division of the Gotei 13, offer my humble viewpoint to the Central 46 if they should be inclined to listen!" She yells, head bowed. Technically, whoever married her would have become the leader if she'd stayed, but Kasumi had been taught all the proper skills for a regular noble woman in addition to other skills that someone of her specific position required, and she'd picked up other skills through observation. Close enough. And what mattered now was that the Central 46 recognized her as someone who was technically still a major, thought not high, noble with authority.

Murmurs of surprise break out among the nobles. Looks like the sudden reappearance of a thought-dead heiress with land and prestige to her name is causing as much waves as she'd expected. This is going to be such a pain later if they want to yank her out of this life she's made for herself with its earned respect and power and make her a pawn to be kowtowed to again, but right now her captain's life is at stake and Kasumi needs to tip the scales in his favor if at all possible.

"The Central 46 recognizes the acting captain of the Ninth Division," '1' says finally, voice giving no emotion away. Which probably means he's got loads behind that screen of his, if he has to control it. "Testify."

_Remind me to thank that diction tutor later. _"With all due respect, much being due, while Captain Urahara has presented the explanation for the hybrids' condition, as well as naming those responsible, and Captain Unohana has presented the facts of their physical, spiritual, and mental states for you to review, neither have adequately shown the character of the hybrids and who they are as people," Kasumi says, raising her head. "It is my belief that such knowledge is necessary for making an informed decision and I ask that you regard my words with the attention given to their words."

The grey-haired girl takes a deep breath. In the Rukongai areas she'd gone to after leaving home, a skinny little boy without the training of a Shinigami couldn't intimidate anyone into staying away. She hadn't been attractive enough, or strong enough, or imposing enough, so the only option for someone who wanted to survive on their own was to become a storyteller, to captivate others and make them want to keep you around for your entertainment value if nothing else.

Urahara had revealed a secret history and the charges against Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tosen. Unohana had given an analysis of the facts.

It's time to tell a story of what the hybrids mean to her.

"The Eleventh Division is a forceful place. It makes you get stronger because you'll die, or wish you were dead, if you don't. But it doesn't tolerate strength that is not strictly shown in standard weapons. It is this belief that makes it weaker than it would otherwise be. The Ninth Division has a similar effect, for a different reason. Captain Muguruma's discipline is such that you get stronger because he doesn't want you to die and because you see his strength and want to emulate it, to become worthy of the power he's gained in order to lead. He is not a nice man, but he is a far better man than I am. In his mind, there are only those who refuse to become strong and those who want to become stronger. If you're the former, you don't last long. A squad can't run efficiently if there are weak links among the strong so you can't let yourself be weak. And Lieutenant Kuna brings lightness when he's too heavy-handed." A faint smile graces Kasumi's face as she thinks of the times when Mashiro's cheery demeanor's defused a tense situation. Those are the stories you can tell for centuries.

"We aren't rule-followers, admittedly. Justice comes before the law whenever possible. Heaven help you if you break the rules of conduct we've got, though. Captain Muguruma set them up. No slacking off, no dishonorable words or actions unless it's a matter of life or death, and do what's right if it kills you. His words, not mine. The almost-disbelieving look on his face when I told him that his other form had killed Kuchiki Sojun-dono was so devastated and remorseful that I expected him to end his own life on the spot."

"And even if he's not the nicest captain, he knows how to lead really damn well. A little bit of praise is enough to make a hardened Shinigami glow, and if you murder one of his subordinates you'd better expect to have a really painful death. Anyone who turns out not to be strong enough is avenged by someone who is because that's just how it is. Comrades in battle don't fight for their own lives, they fight for the lives of others. Captain Muguruma rams that through your skull a hundred times after you mess up the first time and fight for yourself instead of making sure your allies are okay. That's what makes the Ninth Division invincible. We're the ones who are always getting stronger to protect our friends and enemies alike so justice never lapses." _Alright, talk about the other divisions and how the hybrids affect those, c'mon, it's not just Captain Muguruma._

"The Third Division's all about despair, but Captain Otoribashi makes them one of the happiest groups I've ever seen. Battle is something to be hated and finished quickly and painfully so no one wants to keep perpetuating violence. They live to be a deterrent from fighting, so they love the finer points of life because hateful war buys precious peace and beauty. The Fifth doesn't try to be anything they aren't, except for those traitors Aizen and Ichimaru, but they hone all their skills as much as possible so that they're very dangerous to anyone who'd threaten Soul Society, and they're always ready to sacrifice themselves if it's absolutely necessary. Captain Hirako's tricky, but he's still honest and upstanding. He's always calm, so he'd be the de facto leader in a time of crisis even if he was having a personal crisis." She racks her brains for what she knows about the other divisions.

"The Seventh is sincere in everything they do. A lot of mediators go there because you can trust them not to put on a false pretense and settle arguments honestly. Doing your duty and being compassionate has always been their way, even when you'd think a part-Hollow like Captain Aikawa would be treacherous and cruel. He's the best at getting people calm. All the Seventh Division Shinigami follow his example. The Eighth...they wouldn't have any order of Lieutenant Yadomaru wasn't present. She's knowledgeable about everything a Shinigami should know but not stuck-up at all. Yadomaru-san reads to a little girl in her division every month even though she's been so sick. No one would get anything done in the Eighth if she wasn't there because she's so personable even though she's smart. Lieutenant Yadomaru's like an anchor to keep Captain Kyouraku grounded, and he keeps a lot of Shinigami grounded. You know the world's ending when he puts down the sake." Kasumi pauses, frantic with her panic to remember the Twelfth.

"Acting captain, are you finished?" '4' asks.

"No!" She snaps with more edge to her voice than she intends. "I mean, no. Ever since Captain Urahara took over, the Twelfth Division's been all about science and making the technology of Soul Society better. But scientists and technicians can lose sight of their goal among all the data. Lieutenant Sarugaki is the one who brings Captain Urahara out of his lab's messes so he goes to captains' meetings or just so he sees the sun occasionally. Real life trumps fantasies in her book and she lets you know it. Sometimes for your own good, sometimes not, but the entire Twelfth would've lost it and blown up all Seireitei if she wasn't there. The Kido Corps, they're mysterious. All their duties are things I don't understand or need to understand. But I know Kido's a complex thing that requires as much power and control and restraint and all that as swordfighting and martial arts. It takes a level-headed guy with a knack for keeping everything and everything straight to do well at it like Ushoda-san does. If the Kido Corps are a tree, he's the roots."

"I'm not telling you all this so I can bore you to death with details about how the Gotei 13 works and the division members. I'm trying to get you to see these are people you're ready to condemn as monsters. They are important to everyone around them and to the workings of Soul Society. The normal Shinigami hold to their examples and are made better by their presence. And they're important because they aren't just Hollows. They have lives, and thoughts, and loved ones, and _value. _Captain Unohana basically said that the fact that the Visored adhered to their duties at significant personal cost is testament to their loyalties and threat level to Seireitei. If they're dangerous threats as the mindless beasts Kuchiki-dono wants to paint them as in his deeply emotionally tainted account, then as the good people I know they are in reality, they're powerful warriors for Soul Society. Weapons, if it makes you feel better to call them that." _Okay, time to take a risk. I'll put my emotions into it._

"And if you want to disregard that practical benefit–since it's obvious that there aren't any psychotic feelings to be suppressed to make them act like normal Shinigami that can be commanded–then listen to me now, you noble bigots. There is no honor to preserve! Not their families', not their own! Part-Hollow or not, they're better, more honorable people than so many of the pure souls who call themselves nobles. At least they hid what they'd become for others' sake instead of lying to get a little more gold or marry into a little more land. You won't like me saying it, but they aren't the dishonorable ones here. Anyone who would reject them for a transformation they resisted fiercely, one that has no bearing on who they are, that person is the filthy monster!" The grey-haired girl points at a random noble, sweeping her finger across their seating and over the Central 46's screens.

"I grew up with all those disgusting rules about sucking up to anyone with more power and treating those beneath like dirt. Captain Muguruma, he and Lieutenant Kuna didn't put up with that bullshit! They didn't put up with any pig-headed bullshit I brought with me from the Eleventh and it was the best anyone's ever treated me! When they started dying I swore I'd get stronger so the division they loved wouldn't get weaker! I swore on my Zanpakuto–on my soul!–that I'd be strong so I could protect them and protect people for them if-if they died. I swore I'd die serving them if it meant upholding their ideals after their deaths, but I'll be damned if I let you kill them before I'm dead! This is the complete devotion that my captain and lieutenant have earned! This is the devotion that all true leaders, regardless of what fate has made them, inspire in their subordinates!" When Kasumi heaves a gasping breath at her sentence's end, she's white-faced with adrenaline and shouting at the top of her lungs. Sweat is pouring down her back and forehead, the need to sneeze completely forgotten in the frenzy she's worked herself into. Wild grey eyes stare around the room.

"No one deserves to die for the crimes of others. I beg you all to be rational and overlook the unfortunate tragedies of recent days to look at the future and punish the true monsters so more blood is not spilled. I beg you all to see the passion my superiors have instilled in me and not judge me as an overexcited girl, but instead see a soldier who has been made better by her commanders' example and is herself an example of the strength given by true belief in justice and faith in her allies." Kasumi drops into a low bow. "Thank you. I'm finished." _In more ways than one. If this doesn't work, they might single me out, and my reputation's going to take a dive either way. And I'm so tired now..._

"Your testimony is acknowledged, acting Ninth Division Captain Shibata Kasumi. Resume your position in the ranks," '1' orders.

"Yessir." The second she doesn't have to speak properly, it's back to the aggressively informal style of speech. Neither one is more comfortable, but Kasumi definitely knows which one she prefers. It's one of her favorite 'screw you' gestures to the nobility.

In a quick flash-step, she returns to her position between Isshin and Kyouraku, nearly tripping on the oversized haori. It makes her feel more confident, or she wouldn't have brought it, but that doesn't make it impossible for her to make a fool of herself wearing it.

"Well now, Grey-kun, I never figured you for the idealistic type. Didn't know you could talk properly, either. Does Kensei know you're that loyal to him and Kuna-chan?" Kyouraku teases in a whisper.

"Y'can go stuff it," Kasumi retorts. "'Sides, long as it worked, doesn't matter what I told 'em, does it? I got dibs on payin' 'im back fer makin' me clean up his mess and lyin' t'me. Nobody cheats me from that."

"...and we're back to the delinquent," the flamboyant captain murmurs, just barely loud enough for her to hear him. After the grey-haired Shinigami gets revenge of Kensei for worrying her like that, it's on to Kyouraku for his comments. Maybe his lieutenant will help.

No further testimonies are made, and all but the members of the Central 46 file out. The verdict given will break families and hearts.

It's only a question of which one does so.

* * *

_Phew. That was quite the hamminess from Kasumi–she's got more dramatic tendencies than she'd like to admit and the ability to let them out occasionally. From the start, I pictured her as fanatically devoted to Kensei for the fact that he treated her without deference, brute force, or any tolerance of her belligerence. Maybe even a crush? The Ninth is a very 'get on board or get out of the way' place in my mind. We've also now learned about the reason for her belligerent facade, or at least about most of it._

_As to whether she swayed the opinions of the Central 46, that's up to you to decide. Would you've been persuaded? See you next time._


End file.
